


Harriet Evans and the Philosopher’s Stone

by ellenarmy2810



Series: The Harriet Evans Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, gender swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:35:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 77,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellenarmy2810/pseuds/ellenarmy2810
Summary: Harriet Evans thinks she is an ordinary girl - until she is rescued by a beetle-eyed giant of a woman, enrols at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, learns to play Quidditch and does battle in a deadly duel. The Reason: HARRIET EVANS IS A WITCH!Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone but everyone is the opposite gender.





	1. The Girl Who Lived

**Author's Note:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Mr. and Mrs. Evans, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense. Mrs. Evans was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which processed packaging for food companies. She was a big, beefy woman with hardly any neck. Mr. Evans was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as he spent so much of his time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Evans’ had a small daughter called Diana and in their opinion there was no finer girl anywhere.

The Evans’ had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the other Evans’. Mr. Evans was Mr. Evans’ brother, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mr. Evans pretended he didn't have a brother, because his brother and his good-for-nothing wife were as unEvansish as it was possible to be. The Evans’ shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the other Evans’ arrived in the street. The Evans’ knew that the other Evans’ had a small daughter, too, but they had never even seen him. This girl was another good reason for keeping the other Evans’ away; they didn't want Diana mixing with a child like that. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Evans woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mrs. Evans hummed as she picked out her most boring dress for work, and Mr. Evans gossiped away happily as he wrestled a screaming Diana into her high chair. 

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window. 

At half past eight, Mrs. Evans picked up her bag, pecked Mr. Evans on the cheek, and tried to kiss Diana good-bye but missed, because Diana was now having a tantrum and throwing her cereal at the walls. 

"Little tyke," chortled Mrs. Evans as she left the house. She got into her car and backed out of number four's drive. 

It was on the corner of the street that she noticed the first sign of something peculiar -- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mrs. Evans didn't realize what she had seen -- then she jerked her head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could she have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mrs. Evans blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mrs. Evans drove around the corner and up the road, she watched the cat in her mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive -- no, looking at the sign; cats couldn't read maps or signs. Mrs. Evans gave herself a little shake and put the cat out of her mind. As she drove toward town she thought of nothing except a large order of packages she was hoping to get that day. 

But on the edge of town, packaging was driven out of her mind by something else. As she sat in the usual morning traffic jam, she couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mrs. Evans couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes -- the getups you saw on young people! She supposed this was some stupid new fashion. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and her eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mrs. Evans was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mrs. Evans that this was probably some silly stunt -- these people were obviously collecting for something. . . yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mrs. Evans arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, her mind back on the days work. 

Mrs. Evans always sat with her back to the window in her office on the ninth floor. If she hadn't, she might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. She didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mrs. Evans, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. She yelled at five different people. She made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. She was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when she thought she'd stretch her legs and walk across the road to buy herself a bun from the bakery.

She’d forgotten all about the people in cloaks until she passed a group of them next to the baker's. She eyed them angrily as she passed. She didn't know why, but they made her uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and she couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on her way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that she caught a few words of what they were saying. 

"The Evans’, that's right, that's what I heard--"

"-- yes, their daughter, Harriet--"

Mrs. Evans stopped dead. Fear flooded her. She looked back at the whisperers as if she wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. 

She dashed back across the road, hurried up to her office, snapped at her secretary not to disturb her, seized her telephone, and had almost finished dialing her home number when she changed her mind. She put the receiver back down and stroked the back of her neck, thinking. . . no, she was being stupid. Evans wasn't such an unusual name. She was sure there were lots of people called Evans who had a daughter called Harriet. Come to think of it, she wasn't even sure her niece was called Harriet. She’d never even seen the girl. It might have been Henrietta. Or Hannah. There was no point in worrying Mr. Evans; he always got so upset at any mention of his brother. She didn't blame him -- if she’d had a brother like that. . . but all the same, those people in cloaks. . . 

She found it a lot harder to concentrate on packaging that afternoon and when she left the building at five o'clock, she was still so worried that she walked straight into someone just outside the door. 

"Sorry," she grunted, as the tiny old woman stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mrs. Evans realized that the woman was wearing a violet cloak. She didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, her face split into a wide smile and she said in a squeaky voice that made passersby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear madam, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old woman hugged Mrs. Evans around the middle and walked off. 

Mrs. Evans stood rooted to the spot. She had been hugged by a complete stranger. She also thought she had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. She was rattled. She hurried to her car and set off for home, hoping she was imagining things, which she had never hoped before, because she didn't approve of imagination. 

As she pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing she saw -- and it didn't improve her mood -- was the tabby cat she'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on her garden wall. She was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. 

"Shoo!" said Mrs. Evans loudly. 

The cat didn't move. It just gave her a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mrs. Evans wondered. Trying to pull herself together, she let herself into the house. She was still determined not to mention anything to her husband. 

Mr. Evans had had a nice, normal day. He told her over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Diana had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mrs. Evans tried to act normally. When Diana had been put to bed, she went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern. " The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early -- it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight. "

Mrs. Evans sat frozen in her armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Evans’. . . 

Mr. Evans came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. She’d have to say something to him. She cleared her throat nervously. "Er -- Peter, dear -- you haven't heard from your brother lately, have you?"

As she had expected, Mr. Evans looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended he didn't have a brother. 

"No," he said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mrs. Evans mumbled. "Owls. . . shooting stars. . . and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today. . . "

"So?" snapped Mr. Evans. 

"Well, I just thought. . . maybe. . . it was something to do with. . . you know. . . his crowd. "

Mr. Evans sipped his tea through pursed lips. Mrs. Evans wondered whether she dared tell him she’d heard the name "Evans. " She decided she didn't dare. Instead she said, as casually as she could, "Their daughter -- she'd be about Diana’s age now, wouldn't she?"

"I suppose so," said Mr. Evans stiffly. 

"What's her name again? Hetty, isn't it?"

"Harriet. Nasty, common name, if you ask me. "

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Evans, her heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree. "

She didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mr. Evans was in the bathroom, Mrs. Evans crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something. 

Was she imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Evans’? If it did. . . if it got out that they were related to a pair of -- well, she didn't think she could bear it. 

The Evans’ got into bed. Mr. Evans fell asleep quickly but Mrs. Evans lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. Her last, comforting thought before she fell asleep was that even if the Evans’ were involved, there was no reason for them to come near her and Mr. Evans. The Evans’ knew very well what she and Peter thought about them and their kind. . . She couldn't see how she and Peter could get mixed up in anything that might be going on -- she yawned and turned over -- it couldn't affect them. . . 

How very wrong she was. 

Mrs. Evans might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all. 

A woman appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought she'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed. 

Nothing like this woman had ever been seen on Privet Drive. She was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of her hair, which was long enough to tuck into her belt. She was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. Her blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and her nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This woman's name was Ariana Dumbledore. 

Ariana Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that she had just arrived in a street where everything from her name to her boots was unwelcome. She was busy rummaging in her cloak, looking for something. But she did seem to realize she was being watched, because she looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at her from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse her. She chuckled and muttered, "I should have known. "

She found what she was looking for in her inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. She flicked it open, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop. She clicked it again -- the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times she clicked the Deluminator, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching her. If anyone looked out of their window now, even beady-eyed Mr. Evans, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the Deluminator back inside her cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where she sat down on the wall next to the cat. She didn't look at it, but after a moment she spoke to it. 

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall. "

She turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead she was smiling at a rather severe-looking man who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. He, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. His black hair was slicked back against he’s head. He looked distinctly ruffled.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked. 

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly. "

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall. 

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here. "

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily. 

"Oh yes, I've celebrating, all right," he said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no -- even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news." He jerked his head back at the Evans’ dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls. . . shooting stars. . . Well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent -- I'll bet that was Deirdre Diggle. She never had much sense. "

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for eleven years. "

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors. "

He threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping she was going to tell him something, but she didn't, so he went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really has gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A what?"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of. "

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though he didn't think this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who has gone--"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense -- for eleven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: Voldemort. " Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who. ' I have never seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name. "

"I know you haven't, said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, all right, Voldemort, was frightened of. "

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have. "

"Only because you're too -- well -- noble to use them. "

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Master Pomfrey told me he liked my new earmuffs. "

Professor McGonagall shot a sharp look at Dumbledore and said "The owls are nothing next to the rumors that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?"

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point he was most anxious to discuss, the real reason he had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor as a man had he fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as he did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, he was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told him it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer. 

"What they're saying," he pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Evans’. The rumor is that Leslie and Jane Evans are -- are -- that they're -- dead. "

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped. 

"Leslie and Jane. . . I can't believe it. . . I didn't want to believe it. . . Oh, Ariana. . . "

Dumbledore reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "I know. . . I know. . . " she said heavily. 

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as he went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Evans’ daughter, Harriet. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little girl. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harriet Evans, Voldemort's power somehow broke -- and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly. 

"It's -- it's true ?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done. . . all the people he's killed. . . he couldn't kill a little girl? It's just astounding. . . of all the things to stop him. . . but how in the name of heaven did Harriet survive?"

"We can only guess," said Dumbledore. "We may never know. "

Professor McGonagall pulled out a tartan handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes beneath his spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as she took a golden watch from her pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because she put it back in her pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was she who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harriet to her aunt and uncle. They're the only family she has left now. "

"You don't mean - you can't mean the people who live here ?" cried Professor McGonagall, jumping to his feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore -- you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this daughter -- I saw her kicking her father all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harriet Evans come and live here!"

"It's the best place for her," said Dumbledore firmly. "Her aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to her when she's older. I've written them a letter. "

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter? These people will never understand her! She’ll be famous -- a legend -- I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harriet Evans day in the future -- there will be books written about Harriet -- every child in our world will know her name!"

"Exactly. " said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any girl’s head. Famous before she can walk and talk! Famous for something she won't even remember! Can you see how much better off she'll be, growing up away from all that until she's ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened his mouth, changed his mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes -- yes, you're right, of course. But how is the girl getting here, Dumbledore?" He eyed her cloak suddenly as though he thought he might be hiding Harriet underneath it. 

"Hagrid's bringing her. "

"You think it -- wise -- to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore. 

"I'm not saying her heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend she's not careless. She does tend to -- what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky -- and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them. 

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing to the woman sitting astride it. She was almost twice as tall as a normal woman and at least five times as wide. She looked simply too big to be allowed, and so wild -- long tangles of bushy black hair, she had hands the size of trash can lids, and her feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In her vast, muscular arms she was holding a bundle of blankets. 

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, ma’am," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as she spoke. "Young Siri Black lent it to me. I've got her, ma’am. "

"No problems, were there?"

"No, ma’am -- house was almost destroyed, but I got her out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around. She fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol. "

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over her forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning.

"Is that where -- ?" whispered Professor McGonagall. 

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "She’ll have that scar forever. "

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well -- give her here, Hagrid -- we'd better get this over with. "

Dumbledore took Harriet in her arms and turned toward the Evans’ house. 

"Could I -- could I say good-bye to her, ma’am?" asked Hagrid. She bent her great, shaggy head over Harriet and gave her a kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog. 

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying her face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it -- Leslie an' Jane dead -- an' poor little Harriet off ter live with Muggles--"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. She laid Harriet gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of her cloak, tucked it inside Harriet’s blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out. 

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations. "

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I'll be takin' Siri her bike back. G'night, Professor McGonagall -- Professor Dumbledore, ma’am. "

Wiping her streaming eyes on her jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung herself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night. 

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore, nodding to him. Professor McGonagall blew his nose in reply. 

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner she stopped and took out the silver Deluminator. She clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and she could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. She could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four. 

"Good luck, Harriet," she murmured. She turned on her heel and with a swish of her cloak, she was gone. 

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harriet Evans rolled over inside her blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside her and she slept on, not knowing she was special, not knowing she was famous, not knowing she would be woken in a few hours' time by Mr. Evans’ scream as he opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that she would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by her cousin Diana. . . She couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harriet Evans -- the girl who lived!"


	2. The Vanishing Glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Nearly ten years had passed since the Evans’ had woken up to find their niece on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Evans’' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mrs. Evans had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets -- but Diana Evans was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond girl riding her first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with her mother, being hugged and kissed by her father. The room held no sign at all that another girl lived in the house, too.

Yet Harriet Evans was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Her Uncle Peter was awake and it was his shrill voice that made the first noise of the day. 

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harriet woke with a start. Her uncle rapped on the door again. 

"Up!" he screeched. Harriet heard him walking toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. She rolled onto her back and tried to remember the dream she had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. She had a funny feeling she'd had the same dream before. 

Her uncle was back outside the door. 

"Are you up yet?" he demanded. 

"Nearly," said Harriet. 

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn, I want everything perfect on Di’s birthday. "

Harriet groaned. 

"What did you say?" her uncle snapped through the door. 

"Nothing, nothing. . . "

Diana’s birthday -- how could she have forgotten? Harriet got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. She found a pair under her bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harriet was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where she slept. 

When she was dressed she went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Diana’s birthday presents. It looked as though Diana had gotten the new computer she wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Diana wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harriet, as Diana was very fat and hated exercise -- unless of course it involved punching somebody. Diana’s favorite punching bag was Harriet, but she couldn't often catch her. Harriet didn't look it, but she was very fast. 

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harriet had always been small and skinny for her age. She looked even smaller and skinnier than she really was because all she had to wear were old clothes of Diana’s, and Diana was about four times bigger than she was. Harriet had a thin face, knobbly knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. She wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Diana had punched her on the nose. The only thing Harriet liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on her forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning. She had had it as long as she could remember, and the first question she could ever remember asking her Uncle Peter was how she had gotten it. 

"In the car crash when your parents died," he had said. "And don't ask questions. "

Don't ask questions -- that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Evans’. 

Aunt Verona entered the kitchen as Harriet was turning over the bacon. 

"Comb your hair!" she barked, by way of a morning greeting. 

About once a week, Aunt Verona looked over the top of her newspaper and shouted that Harriet needed a haircut. Harriet must have had more haircuts than the rest of the girls in her class put together, but it made no difference, her hair simply grew that way -- all over the place. 

Harriet was frying eggs by the time Diana arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Diana looked a lot like Aunt Verona. She had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly down her thick, fat head. Uncle Peter often said that Diana looked like a baby angel -- Harriet often said that Diana looked like a pig in a wig. 

Harriet put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Diana, meanwhile, was counting her presents. Her face fell. 

"Thirty-six," she said, looking up at her mother and father. "That's two less than last year. "

"Darling, you haven't counted Uncle Mark’s present, see, it's here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy. "

"All right, thirty-seven then," said Diana, going red in the face. Harriet, who could see a huge Diana tantrum coming on, began wolfing down her bacon as fast as possible in case Diana turned the table over. 

Uncle Peter obviously scented danger, too, because he said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right"

Diana thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally she said slowly, "So I'll have thirty. . . thirty. . . "

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Uncle Peter. 

"Oh. " Diana sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then. "

Aunt Verona chuckled. 

"Little tyke wants her money's worth, just like her mother. 'Atta girl, Diana!" She ruffled Diana’s hair. 

At that moment the telephone rang and Uncle Peter went to answer it while Harriet and Aunt Verona watched Diana unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. She was ripping the paper off a rose gold wristwatch when Uncle Peter came back from the telephone looking both angry and worried. 

"Bad news, Verona," he said. "Mr. Figg's broken his leg. He can't take her. " He jerked his head in Harriet’s direction. 

Diana’s mouth fell open in horror, but Harriet’s heart gave a leap. Every year on Diana’s birthday, her parents took her and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harriet was left behind with Mr. Figg, a mad old man who lived two streets away. Harriet hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mr. Figg made her look at photographs of all the chickens he’d ever owned. 

"Now what?" said Uncle Peter, looking furiously at Harriet as though she'd planned this. Harriet knew she ought to feel sorry that Mr. Figg had broken his leg, but it wasn't easy when she reminded herself it would be a whole year before she had to look at Turkey, Snow, Mrs. Cluck, and Tufty again. 

"We could phone Mark," Aunt Verona suggested. 

"Don't be silly, Verona, he hates the girl. "

The Evans’ often spoke about Harriet like this, as though she wasn't there -- or rather, as though she was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug. 

"What about what's-her-name, your friend -- Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Uncle Peter. 

"You could just leave me here," Harriet put in hopefully (she'd be able to watch what she wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Diana’s computer). 

Uncle Peter looked as though he’d just swallowed a lemon. 

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" he snarled. 

"I won't blow up the house," said Harriet, but they weren't listening. 

"I suppose we could take her to the zoo," said Uncle Peter slowly, ". . . and leave her in the car. . . "

"That car's new, she's not sitting in it alone. . . "

Diana began to cry loudly. In fact, she wasn't really crying -- it had been years since she'd really cried -- but she knew that if she screwed up her face and wailed, her father would give her anything she wanted. 

"Dinky Diddydums, don't cry, Daddy won't let her spoil your special day!" he cried, flinging his arms around her. 

"I. . . don't. . . want. . . her. . . t-t-to come!" Diana yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "She always sp-spoils everything!" She shot Harriet a nasty grin through the gap in her father’s arms. 

Just then, the doorbell rang -- "Oh, good Lord, they're here!" said Uncle Peter frantically -- and a moment later, Diana’s best friend, Penny Polkiss, walked in with her mother. Penny was a scrawny girl with a face like a rat. She was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Diana hit them. Diana stopped pretending to cry at once. 

Half an hour later, Harriet, who couldn't believe her luck, was sitting in the back of the Evans’ car with Penny and Diana, on the way to the zoo for the first time in her life. Her aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with her, but before they'd left, Aunt Verona had taken Harriet aside.

"I'm warning you," she had said, putting her large face right up close to Harriet’s, "I'm warning you now, girl -- any funny business, anything at all -- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas. "

"I'm not going to do anything," said Harriet, "honestly. . . "

But Aunt Verona didn't believe her. No one ever did. 

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harriet and it was just no good telling the Evans’ she didn't make them happen. 

Once, Uncle Peter, tired of Harriet coming back from the barbers looking as though she hadn't been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut her hair so short it was almost a pixie cut except for her bangs, which he left "to hide that horrible scar. " Diana had laughed himself silly at Harriet, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where she was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, she had gotten up to find her hair exactly as it had been before Uncle Peter had sheared it off. She had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though she had tried to explain that she couldn't explain how it had grown back so quickly. 

Another time, Uncle Peter had been trying to force her into a revolting old dress of Diana’s (brown with orange puff balls). The harder he tried to pull it over her head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harriet. Uncle Peter had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to her great relief, Harriet wasn't punished. 

On the other hand, she'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Diana’s gang had been chasing her as usual when, as much to Harriet’s surprise as anyone else's, there she was sitting on the chimney. The Evans’ had received a very angry letter from Harriet’s headmistress telling them Harriet had been climbing school buildings. But all she'd tried to do (as she shouted at Aunt Verona through the locked door of her cupboard) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. Harriet supposed that the wind must have caught her in mid-jump. 

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Diana and Penny to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, her cupboard, or Mr. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room. 

While she drove, Aunt Verona complained to Uncle Peter. She liked to complain about things: people at work, Harriet, the council, Harriet, the bank, and Harriet were just a few of her favorite subjects. This morning, it was motorcycles. 

". . . roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," she said, as a motorcycle overtook them. 

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harriet, remembering suddenly. "It was flying. "

Aunt Verona nearly crashed into the car in front. She turned right around in her seat and yelled at Harriet, her face like a gigantic beet: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Diana and Penny sniggered. 

"I know they don't," said Harriet. "It was only a dream. "

But she wished she hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Evans’ hated even more than her asking questions, it was her talking about anything acting in a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon -- they seemed to think she might get dangerous ideas. 

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Evans’ bought Diana and Penny large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harriet what she wanted before they could hurry her away, they bought her a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Harriet thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Diana, except that it wasn't blond. 

Harriet had the best morning she'd had in a long time. She was careful to walk a little way apart from the Evans’ so that Diana and Penny, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting her. They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Diana had a tantrum because her knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Aunt Verona bought her another one and Harriet was allowed to finish the first. 

Harriet felt, afterward, that she should have known it was all too good to last. 

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Diana and Penny wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Diana quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Aunt Verona’s car and crushed it into a trash can -- but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Diana stood with her nose pressed against the glass staring at the glistening brown coils. 

“Make it move,” she whined at her mother. Aunt Verona tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t budge. 

“Do it again,” Diana ordered. Aunt Verona rapped on the glass smartly with her knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on. 

“This is boring,” Diana moaned. She shuffled away. 

Harriet moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself -- no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Uncle Peter hammering on the door to wake you up; at least she got to visit the rest of the house. 

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Harriet’s. 

It winked. 

Harriet stared. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. She looked back at the snake and winked, too. 

The snake jerked its head toward Aunt Verona and Diana, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harriet a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time. "

"I know," Harriet murmured through the glass, though she wasn't sure the snake could hear her. "It must be really annoying. "

The snake nodded vigorously. 

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harriet asked. 

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harriet peered at it. 

Boa Constrictor, Brazil. 

"Was it nice there?"

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harriet read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see -- so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Harriet made both of them jump. "DIANA! MRS. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

Diana came waddling toward them as fast as she could. 

"Out of the way, you," she said, punching Harriet in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harriet fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened -- one second, Penny and Diana were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror. 

Harriet sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits. 

As the snake slid swiftly past her, Harriet could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come. . . Thanksss, amigo. "

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. 

"But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

The zoo director himself made Uncle Peter a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Penny and Diana could only gibber. As far as Harriet had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Aunt Verona’s car, Diana was telling them how it had nearly bitten off her leg, while Penny was swearing it had tried to squeeze her to death. But worst of all, for Harriet at least, was Penny calming down enough to say, "Harriet was talking to it, weren't you, Harriet ?"

Aunt Verona waited until Penny was safely out of the house before starting on Harriet . She was so angry she could hardly speak. She managed to say, "Go -- cupboard -- stay -- no meals," before she collapsed into a chair, and Uncle Peter had to run and get her a large glass of wine. 

Harriet lay in her dark cupboard much later, wishing she had a watch. She didn't know what time it was and she couldn't be sure the Evans’ were asleep yet. Until they were, she couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food. 

She’d lived with the Evans’ almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as she could remember, ever since she'd been a baby and her parents had died in that car crash. She couldn't remember being in the car when her parents had died. Sometimes, when she strained her memory during long hours in her cupboard, she came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on her forehead. This, she supposed, was the crash, though she couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. She couldn't remember her parents at all. Her aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course she was forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

When she had been younger, Harriet had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take her away, but it had never happened; the Evans’ were her only family. Yet sometimes she thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know her. Very strange strangers they were, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to her once while out shopping with Uncle Peter and Diana. After asking Harriet furiously if she knew the man, Uncle Peter had rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at her once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken her hand in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harriet tried to get a closer look. 

At school, Harriet had no one. Everybody knew that Diana’s gang hated that odd Harriet Evans in her baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Diana’s gang.


	3. Letters From No One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harriet her longest-ever punishment. By the time she was allowed out of her cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Diana had already broken her new video camera, crashed her remote control fairy, and, first time out on her racing bike, knocked down old Mr. Figg as he crossed Privet Drive on his crutches.

Harriet was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Diana’s gang, who visited the house every single day. Penny, Debbie, Marion, and Geri were all big and stupid, but as Diana was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, she was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Diana’s favorite sport: Harriet Hunting. 

This was why Harriet spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where she could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in her life, she wouldn't be with Diana. Diana had been accepted at Aunt Verona’s old private school, Smeltings. Penny Polkiss was going there too. Harriet, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Diana thought this was very funny. 

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," she told Harriet. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harriet . "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it -- it might be sick. " Then she ran, before Diana could work out what she'd said. 

One day in July, Uncle Peter took Diana to London to buy her Smeltings uniform, leaving Harriet at Mr. Figg's. Mr. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out he’d broken his leg tripping over one of his chickens, and he didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. He let Harriet watch television and gave her a bit of solid fruit cake that tasted as though he’d had it for several years. 

That evening, Diana paraded around the living room for the family in her brand-new uniform. Smeltings' girls wore maroon blazers, orange skirts, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried brown handbags, which they used to hit each other with whenever there was a fight. 

As she looked at Diana in her new skirt, Aunt Verona said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of her life. Uncle Peter burst into tears and said he couldn't believe it was his Ickle Didikins, she looked so beautiful and grown-up. Harriet didn't trust herself to speak. She thought two of her ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh. 

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harriet went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. She went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water. 

"What's this?" She asked Uncle Peter. His lips tightened as they always did if she dared to ask a question. 

"Your new school uniform," he said. 

Harriet looked in the bowl again. 

"Oh," she said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet. "

"Don't be stupid," snapped Uncle Peter. "I'm dyeing some of Diana’s old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished. "

Harriet seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. She sat down at the table and tried not to think about how she was going to look on her first day at Stonewall High -- like she was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably. 

Diana and Aunt Verona came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harriet’s new uniform. Aunt Verona opened her newspaper as usual and Diana placed her Smeltings handbag, which she carried everywhere, on the table. 

They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat. 

"Get the mail, Diana ," said Aunt Verona from behind her paper. 

"Make Harriet get it. "

"Get the mail, Harriet. "

"Make Diana get it. "

"Poke her, Diana . "

Harriet dodged the prod and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Aunt Verona’s brother Mark, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and -- a letter for Harriet. 

Harriet picked it up and stared at it, her heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to her. Who would? She had no friends, no other relatives -- she didn't belong to the library, so she'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Miss. H. Evans  
Cupboard Under The Stairs  
4 Privet Drive  
Little Whinging  
Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. 

Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Harriet saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. 

"Hurry up, girl!" shouted Aunt Verona from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" She chuckled at her own joke. 

Harriet went back to the kitchen, still staring at her letter. She handed Aunt Verona the bill and the postcard, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. 

Aunt Verona ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard. 

"Mark’s ill," she informed Uncle Peter. "Ate a funny whelk. . . "

"Dad!" said Diana suddenly. "Dad, Harriet’s got something!"

Harriet was on the point of unfolding her letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of her hand by Aunt Verona. 

"That's mine!" said Harriet, trying to snatch it back. 

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Aunt Verona, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. Her face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge. 

"P-P-Peter!" She gasped. 

Diana tried to grab the letter to read it, but Aunt Verona held it high out of her reach. Uncle Peter took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though he might faint. He clutched his throat and made a choking noise. 

"Verona! Oh my goodness -- Verona!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harriet and Diana were still in the room. Diana wasn't used to being ignored. She gave her mother a sharp tap on the head with her hand. 

"I want to read that letter," she said loudly. 

"I want to read it," said Harriet furiously, "as it's mine. "

"Get out, both of you," croaked Aunt Verona, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope. 

Harriet didn't move. 

"I WANT MY LETTER!" She shouted. 

"Let me see it!" demanded Diana. 

"OUT!" roared Aunt Verona, and she took both Harriet and Diana by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harriet and Diana promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Diana won, so Harriet, her glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on her stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor. 

"Verona," Uncle Peter was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address -- how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching -- spying -- might be following us," muttered Aunt Verona wildly. 

"But what should we do, Verona? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want--"

Harriet could see Aunt Verona’s shiny black heels pacing up and down the kitchen. 

"No," she said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer. . . Yes, that's best. . . we won't do anything. . . "

"But--"

"I'm not having one in the house, Peter! Didn't we swear when we took her in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when she got back from work, Aunt Verona did something she'd never done before; she visited Harriet in her cupboard. 

"Where's my letter?" said Harriet, the moment Aunt Verona had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to me?"

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Aunt Verona shortly. "I have burned it. "

"It was not a mistake," said Harriet angrily, "it had my cupboard on it. "

"SILENCE!" yelled Aunt Verona, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. She took a few deep breaths and then forced her face into a smile, which looked quite painful. 

"Er -- yes, Harriet -- about this cupboard. Your uncle and I have been thinking. . . you're really getting a bit big for it. . . we think it might be nice if you moved into Diana’s second bedroom.

"Why?" said Harriet. 

"Don't ask questions!" snapped her aunt. "Take this stuff upstairs, now. "

The Evans’' house had four bedrooms: one for Aunt Verona and Uncle Peter, one for visitors (usually Aunt Verona’s brother, Mark), one where Diana slept, and one where Diana kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harriet one trip upstairs to move everything she owned from the cupboard to this room. She sat down on the bed and stared around her. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working mini Diana had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Diana’s first-ever television set, which she'd put her foot through when her favorite program had been canceled; there was a large cage, which had once held a hamster that Diana had swapped at school for a modern dolls house, which was up on a shelf with the doors all broken because Diana had had a tenner tantrum. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched. 

From downstairs came the sound of Diana bawling at her mother, “I don't want her in there. . . I need that room. . . make her get out. . . "

Harriet sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday she'd have given anything to be up here. Today she'd rather be back in her cupboard with that letter than up here without it. 

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Diana was in shock. She’d screamed, whacked her mother around the head, been sick on purpose, kicked her father, and thrown her tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and she still didn't have her room back. Harriet was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing she'd opened the letter in the hall. Aunt Verona and Uncle Peter kept looking at each other darkly. 

When the mail arrived, Aunt Verona, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harriet, made Diana go and get it. They heard her banging things all the way down the hall. Then she shouted, "There's another one! 'Miss. H. Evans, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -- '"

With a strangled cry, Aunt Verona leapt from her seat and ran down the hall, Harriet right behind him. Aunt Verona had to wrestle Diana to the ground to get the letter from her, which was made difficult by the fact that Harriet had grabbed Aunt Verona around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, Aunt Verona straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harriet’s letter clutched in her hand. 

"Go to your cupboard -- I mean, your bedroom," she wheezed at Harriet. "Diana -- go -- just go. "

Harriet walked round and round her new room. Someone knew she had moved out of her cupboard and they seemed to know she hadn't received her first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time she'd make sure they didn't fail. She had a plan. 

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harriet turned it off quickly and dressed silently. She mustn't wake the Evans’. She stole downstairs without turning on any of the lights. 

She was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. Her heart hammered as she crept across the dark hall toward the front door --

"AAAAARRRGH!"

Harriet leapt into the air; she'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat -- something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harriet realized that the big, squashy something had been her aunt’s face. Aunt Verona had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harriet didn't do exactly what she'd been trying to do. She shouted at Harriet for about half an hour and then told her to go and make a cup of tea. Harriet shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time she got back, the mail had arrived, right into Aunt Verona’s lap. Harriet could see three letters addressed in green ink. 

"I want -- " she began, but Aunt Verona was tearing the letters into pieces before her eyes. 

Aunt Verona didn't go to work that day. She stayed at home and helped Uncle Peter nail up the mail slot. 

"See," she explained to Uncle Peter, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up. "

"I'm not sure that'll work, Verona. "

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Peter, they're not like you and me," said Aunt Verona, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of cherry cake Uncle Peter had just brought her.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harriet. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom. 

Aunt Verona stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, she got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. She hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as she worked, and jumped at small noises. 

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harriet found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Uncle  
Peter through the living room window. While Aunt Verona made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Uncle Peter shredded the letters in the food processor. 

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Diana asked Harriet in amazement. 

On Sunday morning, Aunt Verona sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy. 

"No post on Sundays," she reminded them cheerfully as she spread marmalade on her magazines, "no damn letters today--"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as she spoke and caught her sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Evans’ ducked, but Harriet leapt into the air trying to catch one --

"Out! OUT!"

Aunt Verona seized Harriet around the waist and threw her into the hall. When Uncle Peter and Diana had run out with their arms over their faces, Aunt Verona slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor. 

"That does it," said Aunt Verona, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of her hair at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

She looked so dangerous with half her hair missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Diana was sniffling in the back seat; her mother had hit her round the head for holding them up while she tried to pack her television, VCR, and computer in her sports bag. 

They drove. And they drove. Even Uncle Peter didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Aunt Verona would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. 

"Shake 'em off. . . shake 'em off," she would mutter whenever she did this. 

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Diana was howling. She’d never had such a bad day in his life. She was hungry, she’d missed five television programs she’d wanted to see, and she’d never gone so long without blowing up an alien on her computer. 

Aunt Verona stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Diana and Harriet shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Diana snored but Harriet stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering. . . 

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table. 

"'Scuse me, but is one of you Miss. H. Evans? Only I got about an 'undred of these at the front desk. "

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Miss. H. Evans

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Harriet made a grab for the letter but Aunt Verona knocked her hand out of the way. The woman stared. 

"I'll take them," said Aunt Verona, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room. 

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Uncle Peter suggested timidly, hours later, but Aunt Verona didn't seem to hear him. Exactly what she was looking for, none of them knew. She drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook her head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage. 

"Mummy’s gone mad, hasn't she?" Diana asked Uncle Peter dully late that afternoon. Aunt Verona had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Diana sniveled. 

"It's Monday," she told her father. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television. "

Monday. This reminded Harriet of something. If it was Monday -- and you could usually count on Diana to know the days the week, because of television -- then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harriet’s eleventh birthday. Of course, her birthdays were never exactly fun -- last year, the Evans’ had given her a coat hanger and a pair of Aunt Verona’s old socks. Still, you weren't eleven every day. 

Aunt Verona was back and she was smiling. She was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Uncle Peter when he asked what she'd bought. 

"Found the perfect place!" She said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

It was very cold outside the car. Aunt Verona was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there. 

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Aunt Verona gleefully, clapping her hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them. 

"I've already got us some rations," said Aunt Verona, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Aunt Verona, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house. 

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms. 

Aunt Verona’s rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. She tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up. 

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" She said cheerfully. 

She was in a very good mood. Obviously she thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harriet privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer her up at all. 

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Uncle Peter found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Diana on the moth-eaten sofa. He and Aunt Verona went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harriet was left to find the softest bit of floor she could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket. 

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harriet couldn't sleep. She shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, her stomach rumbling with hunger. Diana’s snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Diana’s watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on her fat wrist, told Harriet she'd be eleven in ten minutes' time. She lay and watched her birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now. 

Five minutes to go. Harriet heard something creak outside. She hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although she might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that she'd be able to steal one somehow. 

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

One minute to go and she'd be eleven. Thirty seconds. . . twenty. . . ten. . . nine -- maybe she'd wake Diana up, just to annoy her -- three. . . two. . . one. . . 

BOOM. 

The whole shack shivered and Harriet sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.


	4. The Keeper of the Keys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

BOOM! They knocked again. Diana jerked awake. 

"Where's the cannon?" she said stupidly. 

There was a crash behind them and Aunt Verona came skidding into the room. She was holding a rifle in her hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package she had brought with them. 

"Who's there?" She shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then --

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. 

A giant of a woman was standing in the doorway. Her face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair but you could make out her eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. 

The giant squeezed her way into the hut, stooping so that her head just brushed the ceiling. She bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. She turned to look at them all. 

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey. . . "

She strode over to the sofa where Diana sat frozen with fear. 

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger. 

Diana squeaked and ran to hide behind her father, who was crouching, terrified, behind Aunt Verona. 

"An' here's Harriet!" said the giant. 

Harriet looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. 

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer mum, but yeh've got yer dad’s eyes. "

Aunt Verona made a funny rasping noise. 

"I demand that you leave at once, madam!" she said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Evans, yeh great prune," said the giant; she reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Aunt Verona’s hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room. 

Aunt Verona made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on. 

"Anyway -- Harriet," said the giant, turning her back on the Evans’, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right. "

From an inside pocket of her black overcoat she pulled a slightly squashed box. Harriet opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harriet written on it in pink icing. 

Harriet looked up at the giant. She meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to her mouth, and what she said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled. 

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Ruby Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. "

She held out an enormous hand and shook Harriet’s whole arm. 

"What about that tea then, eh?" She said, rubbing her hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind. "

Her eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and she snorted. She bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what she was doing but when she drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harriet felt the warmth wash over her as though she'd sunk into a hot bath. 

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under her weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of her coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that she took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as she slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Diana fidgeted a little. Aunt Verona said sharply, "Don't touch anything she gives you, Diana. "

The giant chuckled darkly. 

"Yer great puddin' of a daughter don' need fattenin' anymore, Evans, don' worry. "

She passed the sausages to Harriet, who was so hungry she had never tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn't take her eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, she said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are. "

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped her mouth with the back of his hand. 

"Call me Hagrid," she said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.”

"Er -- no," said Harriet. 

Hagrid looked shocked. 

"Sorry," Harriet said quickly. 

"Sorry ?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Evans’, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harriet. 

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"

She had leapt to her feet. In her anger she seemed to fill the whole hut. The Evans’ were cowering against the wall. 

"Do you mean ter tell me," she growled at the Evans’, "that this girl -- this girl! -- knows nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING?"

Harriet thought this was going a bit far. She had been to school, after all, and her marks weren't bad. 

"I know some things," she said. "I can, you know, do maths and stuff. "

But Hagrid simply waved her hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world. "

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if she was about to explode. 

"EVANS!" she boomed. 

Aunt Verona, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble. " Hagrid stared wildly at Harriet. 

"But yeh must know about yer mum and dad," she said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous. "

"What? My -- my mum and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know. . . yeh don' know. . . " Hagrid ran her fingers through her hair, fixing Harriet with a bewildered stare. 

"Yeh don' know what yeh are ?" she said finally. 

Aunt Verona suddenly found her voice. 

"Stop!" she commanded. "Stop right there, madam! I forbid you to tell the girl anything!"

A braver woman than Verona Evans would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave her; when Hagrid spoke, her every syllable trembled with rage. 

"You never told her? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from her all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" said Harriet eagerly. 

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Aunt Verona in panic. 

Uncle Peter gave a gasp of horror. 

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harriet -- yer a witch. "

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard. 

"I'm a what ?" gasped Harriet. 

"A witch, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good 'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter. "

Harriet stretched out her hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Miss. H. Evans, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. She pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ARIANA DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. , Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss. Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. 

Yours sincerely,

Milton McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Harriet’s head like fireworks and she couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes she stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to her forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside her overcoat she pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With her tongue between her teeth she scribbled a note that Harriet could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harriet her letter. 

Taking her to buy her things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well. 

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then she came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone. 

Harriet realized her mouth was open and closed it quickly. 

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Aunt Verona, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight. 

"She’s not going," she said. 

Hagrid grunted. 

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop her," she said. 

"A what?" said Harriet, interested. 

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on. "

"We swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Aunt Verona, "swore we'd stamp it out of her! Witch indeed!"

"You knew ?" said Harriet. "You knew I'm a -- a witch?"

"Knew!" shrieked Uncle Peter suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted brother being what he was? Oh, he got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that -- that school -- and came home every vacation with his pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw him for what he was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lesley this and Lesley that, they were proud of having a wizard in the family!"

He stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed he had been wanting to say all this for years. 

"Then he met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, he went and got himself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harriet had gone very white. As soon as she found her voice she said, "Blown up? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lesley an' Jane Evans? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harriet Evans not knowin' her own story when every kid in our world knows her name!"

"But why? What happened?" Harriet asked urgently. 

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. She looked suddenly anxious. 

"I never expected this," she said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harriet, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone's gotta -- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'. "

She threw a dirty look at the Evans’. 

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it. . . "

She sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows--"

"Who?"

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does. "

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harriet, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went. . . bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was. . . "

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out. 

"Could you write it down?" Harriet suggested. 

"Nah -- can't spell it. All right -- Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harriet. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches. . . terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway. 

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before. . . probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em. . . maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an'--"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew her nose with a sound like a foghorn. 

"Sorry," she said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -- anyway. . . 

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh -- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harriet. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age -- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts -- an' you was only a baby, an' you lived. "

Something very painful was going on in Harriet’s mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, she saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than she had ever remembered it before -- and she remembered something else, for the first time in her life: a high, cold, cruel laugh. 

Hagrid was watching her sadly. 

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot. . . "

"Load of old tosh," said Aunt Verona. Harriet jumped; she had almost forgotten that the Evans’ were there. Aunt Verona certainly seemed to have got back her courage. She was glaring at Hagrid and her fists were clenched. 

"Now, you listen here, girl," she snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -- and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -- asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -- just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end--"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside her coat. Pointing this at Aunt Verona like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -- I'm warning you -- one more word. . . "

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a giant, Aunt Verona’s courage failed again; she flattened herself against the wall and fell silent. 

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor. 

Harriet, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them. 

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harriet. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see. . . he was gettin' more an' more powerful -- why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back. 

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harriet. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right. "

Hagrid looked at Harriet with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harriet, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake. A witch? Her? How could she possibly be? She’d spent her life being clouted by Diana, and bullied by Uncle Peter and Aunt Verona; if she was really a witch, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock her in her cupboard? If she'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Diana had always been able to kick her around like a football?

"Hagrid," she said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a witch. "

To her surprise, Hagrid chuckled. 

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harriet looked into the fire. Now she came to think about it. . . every odd thing that had ever made her aunt and uncle furious with her had happened when she, Harriet, had been upset or angry. . . chased by Diana’s gang, she had somehow found herself out of their reach. . . dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, she'd managed to make it grow back. . . and the very last time Diana had hit her, hadn't she got her revenge, without even realizing she was doing it? Hadn't she set a boa constrictor on her?

Harriet looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at her. 

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harriet Evans, not a witch -- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts. "

But Aunt Verona wasn't going to give in without a fight. 

"Haven't I told you she's not going?" she hissed. "She’s going to Stonewall High and she'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and she needs all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and--"

"If she wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop her," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lesley an' Jane Evans’ daughter goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Her name's been down ever since she was born. She’s off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and she won't know herself. She’ll be with youngsters of her own sort, fer a change, an' she'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Ariana Dumbled--"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HER MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Aunt Verona. 

But she had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized her umbrella and whirled it over her head, "NEVER -- " she thundered, " -- INSULT -- ARIANA -- DUMBLEDORE -- IN -- FRONT -- OF -- ME!"

She brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Diana -- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Diana was dancing on the spot with her hands clasped over her fat bottom, howling in pain. When she turned her back on them, Harriet saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in her trousers. 

Aunt Verona roared. Pulling Uncle Peter and Diana into the other room, she cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them. 

Hagrid looked down at her umbrella and stroked her beard. 

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," she said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn her into a pig, but I suppose she was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do. "

She cast a sideways look at Harriet under her bushy eyebrows. 

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," she said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job. "

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harriet. 

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great woman, Dumbledore. "

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that. "

She took off her thick black coat and threw it to Harriet. 

"You can kip under that," she said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' doormice in one o' the pockets. "


	5. Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Harriet woke early the next morning. Although she could tell it was daylight, she’d kept her eyes shut tight.

“It was a dream,” she told herself firmly. “I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for witches. When I open my eyes I’ll be at home in my cupboard.”

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise. 

And there was Uncle Peter knocking on the door, Harriet thought, her heart sinking. But she didn’t open her eyes. It had been such a good dream. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

“All right,” Harriet mumbled, “I’m getting up.”

She sat up and Hagrid’s heavy coat fell off her. The hit was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid herself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak. 

Harriet scrambles to her feet, so happy she felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside her. She went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn’t wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat. 

“Don’t do that.”

Harriet tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at her and carried on savaging the coat. 

"Hagrid!" said Harriet loudly. "There's an owl--"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa. 

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets. "

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets -- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags. . . finally, Harriet pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins. 

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily. 

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones. "

Harriet counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harriet could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window. 

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched. 

"Best be off, Harriet, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school. "

Harriet was turning over the witch coins and looking at them. She had just thought of something that made her feel as though the happy balloon inside her had got a puncture. 

"Um -- Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on her huge boots. 

"I haven't got any money -- and you heard Aunt Verona last night. . . She won't pay for me to go and learn magic. "

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching her head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed--"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, girl! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold -- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither. "

"Wizards have banks ?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins. "

Harriet dropped the bit of sausage she was holding. 

"Goblins ?"

"Yeah -- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harriet. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business. " Hagrid drew herself up proudly. "She usually gets me ter do important stuff fer her. Fetchin' you -- gettin' things from Gringotts -- knows she can trust me, see. "

"Got everythin'? Come on, then. "

Harriet followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Aunt Verona had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm. 

"How did you get here?" Harriet asked, looking around for another boat. 

"Flew," said Hagrid. 

"Flew ?"

"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh. "

They settled down in the boat, Harriet still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine her flying. 

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harriet another of her sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harriet, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harriet asked. 

"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding her newspaper as she spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat. "

Harriet sat and thought about this while Hagrid read her newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harriet had learned from Aunt Verona that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, she'd never had so many questions in her life. 

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page. 

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harriet asked, before she could stop himself. 

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but she'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornetta Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So she pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice. "

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do ?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country. "

"Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Harriet, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone. "

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up her newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street. 

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harriet couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, she kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harriet? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harriet, panting a bit as she ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon. "

"You'd like one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go. "

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harriet so she could buy their tickets. 

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. 

"Still got yer letter, Harriet?" she asked as she counted stitches. 

Harriet took the parchment envelope out of her pocket. 

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need. "

Harriet unfolded a second piece of paper she hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL o f WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bertius Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope set

1 brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harriet wondered aloud. 

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid. 

Harriet had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where she was going, she was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. She got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," she said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops. 

Hagrid was so huge that she parted the crowd easily; all Harriet had to do was keep close behind her. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Evans’ had cooked up? If Harriet hadn't known that the Evans’ had no sense of humor, she might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told her so far was unbelievable, Harriet couldn't help trusting her. 

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place. "

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harriet wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harriet had the most peculiar feeling that only she and Hagrid could see it. Before she could mention this, Hagrid had steered her inside. 

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at her, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping her great hand on Harriet’s shoulder and making Harriet’s knees buckle. 

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harriet, "is this -- can this be -- ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. 

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harriet Evans. . . what an honor. "

She hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harriet and seized her hand, tears in her eyes. 

"Welcome back, Miss. Evans, welcome back. "

Harriet didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. 

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harriet found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. 

"Dorian Crockford, Miss. Evans, can't believe I'm meeting you at last. "

"So proud, Miss. Evans, I'm just so proud. "

"Always wanted to shake your hand -- I'm all of a flutter. "

"Delighted, Miss. Evans, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Deirdre Diggle. "

"I've seen you before!" said Harriet, as Deirdre Diggle's top hat fell off in her excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop. "

"She remembers!" cried Deirdre Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? She remembers me!" Harriet shook hands again and again -- Dorian Crockford kept coming back for more. 

A pale young woman made his way forward, very nervously. One of her eyes was twitching. 

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harriet, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts. "

"E-E-Evans," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harriet’s hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you. "

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though she'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, E-E-Evans?" She laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." She looked terrified at the very thought. 

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harriet to herself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make herself heard over the babble. 

"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Harriet. "

Dorian Crockford shook Harriet’s hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a rubbish bin and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harriet. 

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, she's usually tremblin'. "

"Is she always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor gal. Brilliant mind. She was fine while she was studyin' outta books but then she took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. . . They say she met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of her own subject -- now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Harriet’s head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the rubbish bin. 

"Three up. . . two across. . . " she muttered. "Right, stand back, Harriet. "

She tapped the wall three times with the point of her umbrella. 

The brick she had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. 

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley. "

She grinned at Harriet’s amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harriet looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. 

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes -- Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them. 

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first. "

Harriet wished she had about eight more eyes. She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad. . . "

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harriet’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harriet heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever -- " There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harriet had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon. . . 

"Gringotts," said Hagrid. 

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was --

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harriet. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harriet noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn. 

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there. 

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid. 

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harriet made for the counter. 

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Miss. Harriet Potter's safe. "

"You have her key, madam?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and she started emptying her pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harriet watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. 

The goblin looked at it closely. 

"That seems to be in order. "

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out her chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen. "

The goblin read the letter carefully. 

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside her pockets, she and Harriet followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall. 

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harriet asked. 

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that. "

Griphook held the door open for them. Harriet, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty -- and were off. 

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harriet tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering. 

Harriet’s eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late -- they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor. 

"I never know," Harriet called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick. "

She did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop her knees from trembling. 

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harriet gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. 

"All yours," smiled Hagrid. 

All Harriet’s-- it was incredible. The Evans’ couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from her faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harriet cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to her, buried deep under London. 

Hagrid helped Harriet pile some of it into a bag. 

"The gold ones are Galleons," she explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh.” She turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook. 

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harriet leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled her back by the scruff of her neck. 

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole. 

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. 

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook. 

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harriet asked. 

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin. 

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harriet was sure, and she leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least -- but at first she thought it was empty. Then she noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside her coat. Harriet longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid. 

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harriet didn't know where to run first now that she had a bag full of money. She didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that she was holding more money than she'd had in her whole life -- more money than even Diana had ever had. 

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harriet, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” She did still look a bit sick, so Harriet entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous. 

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. 

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harriet started to speak. "Got the lot here -- another young lady being fitted up just now, in fact. "

In the back of the shop, a girl with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up her long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harriet on a stool next to her slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length. 

"Hello," said the girl, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harriet. 

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the girl. She had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. "

Harriet was strongly reminded of Diana. 

"Have you got your own broom?" the girl went on. 

"No," said Harriet. 

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harriet said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be. 

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harriet, feeling more stupid by the minute. 

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harriet, wishing she could say something a bit more interesting. 

"I say, look at that woman!" said the girl suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harriet and pointing at two large ice creams to show she couldn't come in. 

"That's Hagrid," said Harriet, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "She works at Hogwarts. "

"Oh," said the girl, "I've heard of her. She’s a sort of servant, isn't she?"

"She’s the gamekeeper," said Harriet. She was liking the girl less and less every second. 

"Yes, exactly. I heard she's a sort of savage -- lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then she gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to her bed. "

"I think she's brilliant," said Harriet coldly. 

"Do you?" said the girl, with a slight sneer. "Why is she with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harriet shortly. She didn't feel much like going into the matter with this girl. 

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean. "

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harriet could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harriet, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the girl, hopped down from the footstool. 

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling girl. 

Harriet was rather quiet as she ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought her (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts). 

"What's up?" said Hagrid. 

"Nothing," Harriet lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harriet cheered up a bit when she found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, she said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harriet, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know -- not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harriet. She told Hagrid about the pale girl in Madam Malkin's. 

"-- and she said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in--"

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If she'd known who yeh were -- she's grown up knowin' yer name if her parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does she know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles -- look at yer dad! Look what he had fer a brother!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like football in the Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules. "

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but--"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Harriet gloomily. 

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one. "

"Vol-, sorry -- You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid. 

They bought Harriet’s school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Diana, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harriet away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian. 

"I was trying to find out how to curse Diana. "

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level. "

Hagrid wouldn't let Harriet buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harriet, Harriet herself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop). 

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harriet’s list again. 

"Just yer wand left -- A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present. "

Harriet felt himself go red. 

"You don't have to--"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at -- an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'. "

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harriet now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. She couldn't stop stammering her thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell. 

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now -- only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand. "

A magic wand. . . this was what Harriet had been really looking forward to. 

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B. C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harriet felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic. 

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harriet jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and she got quickly off the spindly chair. 

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. 

"Hello," said Harriet awkwardly. 

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harriet Evans. " It wasn't a question. "You have your father’s eyes. It seems only yesterday he was in here himself, buying his first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. "

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harriet. Harriet wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. 

"Your mother, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your mother favored it -- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. "

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harriet were almost nose to nose. Harriet could see herself reflected in those misty eyes. 

"And that's where. . . "

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harriet’s forehead with a long, white finger. 

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands. . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . "

He shook his head and then, to Harriet’s relief, spotted Hagrid. 

"Ruby! Ruby Hagrid! How nice to see you again. . . Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid. 

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern. 

"Er -- yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling her feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," she added brightly. 

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply. 

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harriet noticed she gripped her pink umbrella very tightly as she spoke. 

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now -- Miss. Evans. Let me see. " He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er -- well, I'm right-handed," said Harriet. 

"Hold out your arm. That's it. " He measured Harriet from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss. Evans. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand. "

Harriet suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. 

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Miss. Evans. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave. "

Harriet took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once. 

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try--"

Harriet tried -- but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. 

"No, no -- here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out. "

Harriet tried. And tried. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -- I wonder, now -- yes, why not -- unusual combination -- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. "

Harriet took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well. . . how curious. . . how very curious. . . "

He put Harriet’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious. . . curious. . . 

"Sorry," said Harriet, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harriet with his pale stare. 

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss. Evans. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather -- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother -- why, its brother gave you that scar. "

Harriet swallowed. 

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the witch, remember. . . I think we must expect great things from you, Miss. Evans. . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great. "

Harriet shivered. She wasn't sure she liked Mr. Ollivander too much. She paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop. 

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harriet and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harriet didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; she didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harriet’s lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harriet only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped her on the shoulder. 

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," she said. 

She bought Harriet a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harriet kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow. 

"You all right, Harriet? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid. 

Harriet wasn't sure she could explain. She’d just had the best birthday of her life -- and yet -- she chewed her hamburger, trying to find the words. 

"Everyone thinks I'm special," she said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander. . . but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry -- I mean, the night my parents died. "

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild hair and eyebrows she wore a very kind smile. 

"Don' you worry, Harriet. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact. "

Hagrid helped Harriet on to the train that would take her back to the Dursleys, then handed her an envelope. 

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " she said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me. . . See yeh soon, Harriet. "

The train pulled out of the station. Harriet wanted to watch Hagrid until she was out of sight; she rose in her seat and pressed her nose against the window, but she blinked and Hagrid had gone.


	6. The Journey from Platform Nine and Three Quarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Harry's last month with the Evans’ wasn't fun. True, Diana was now so scared of Harriet she wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Verona and Uncle Peter didn't shut Harriet in her cupboard, force her to do anything, or shout at her -- in fact, they didn't speak to her at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though any chair with Harriet in it were empty. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while.

Harriet kept to her room, with her new owl for company. She had decided to call her Hedwig, a name she had found in A History of Magic. Her school books were very interesting. She lay on her bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Uncle Peter didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before she went to sleep, Harriet ticked off another day on the piece of paper she had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first. 

On the last day of August she thought she'd better speak to her aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so she went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. She cleared her throat to let them know she was there, and Diana screamed and ran from the room. 

"Er -- Aunt Verona?"

Aunt Verona grunted to show she was listening. 

"Er -- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts. "

Aunt Verona grunted again. 

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"

Grunt. Harriet supposed that meant yes. 

"Thank you. "

She was about to go back upstairs when Aunt Verona actually spoke. 

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Harriet didn't say anything. 

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harriet, realizing this for the first time. She pulled the ticket Hagrid had given her out of her pocket. 

"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," she read. 

Her aunt and uncle stared. 

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters. "

"Don't talk rubbish," said Aunt Verona . "There is no platform nine and three-quarters. "

"It's on my ticket. "

"Barking," said Aunt Verona , "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother. "

"Why are you going to London?" Harriet asked, trying to keep things friendly. 

"Taking Diana to the hospital," growled Aunt Verona . "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before she goes to Smeltings. "

Harriet woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. She got up and pulled on her jeans because she didn't want to walk into the station in her wizard's robes -- she'd change on the train. She checked her Hogwarts list yet again to make sure she had everything she needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Evans’ to get up. Two hours later, Harriet’s huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Evans' car, Uncle Peter had talked Diana into sitting next to Harriet, and they had set off. 

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Aunt Verona dumped Harriet’s trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for her. Harriet thought this was strangely kind until Aunt Verona stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on her face. 

"Well, there you are, girl. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

She was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all. 

"Have a good term," said Aunt Verona with an even nastier smile. She left without another word. Harriet turned and saw the Evans’ drive away. All three of them were laughing. Harriet’s mouth went rather dry. What on earth was she going to do? She was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. She’d have to ask someone. 

She stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters. The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harriet couldn't even tell her what part of the country it was in, she started to get annoyed, as though Harriet was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harriet asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harriet was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, she had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and she had no idea how to do it; she was stranded in the middle of a station with a trunk she could hardly lift, a pocket full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell her something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. She wondered if she should get out her wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten. 

At that moment a group of people passed just behind her and she caught a few words of what they were saying. 

"-- packed with Muggles, of course--"

Harriet swung round. The speaker was a plump man who was talking to four girls, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harriet’s in front of him -- and they had an owl. 

Heart hammering, Harriet pushed her cart after them. They stopped and so did she, just near enough to hear what they were saying. 

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the girls' father. 

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small boy, also red-headed, who was holding his hand, "Mum, can't I go. . . "

"You're not old enough, Jerry, now be quiet. All right, Penelope, you go first. "

What looked like the oldest girl marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harriet watched, careful not to blink in case she missed it -- but just as the gril reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of her and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the girl had vanished. 

"Frankie, you next," the plump man said. 

"I'm not Frankie, I'm Georgina," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm Georgina?"

"Sorry, Georgina, dear. "

"Only joking, I am Frankie," said the girl, and off she went. Her twin called after her to hurry up, and she must have done so, because a second later, she had gone -- but how had she done it?

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier she was almost there -- and then, quite suddenly, she wasn't anywhere. 

There was nothing else for it. 

"Excuse me," Harriet said to the plump man. 

"Hello, dear," he said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ronnie’s new, too. "

He pointed at the last and youngest of his daughters. She was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose. 

"Yes," said Harriet. "The thing is -- the thing is, I don't know how to--"

"How to get onto the platform?" he said kindly, and Harriet nodded. 

"Not to worry," he said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ronnie. "

"Er -- okay," said Harriet. 

She pushed her trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid. 

She started to walk toward it. People jostled her on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harriet walked more quickly. She was going to smash right into that barrier and then she'd be in trouble -- leaning forward on her cart, she broke into a heavy run -- the barrier was coming nearer and nearer -- she wouldn't be able to stop -- the cart was out of control -- she was a foot away -- she closed his eyes ready for the crash --

It didn't come. . . She kept on running. . . She opened her eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts' Express, eleven o'clock. Harriet looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, she had done it. 

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. 

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harriet pushed her cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She passed a round-faced girl who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again. "

"Oh, Neville," she heard the old man sigh. 

A girl with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd. 

"Give us a look, Leah, go on. "

The girl lifted the lid of a box in her arms, and the people around her shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg. 

Harriet pressed on through the crowd until she found an empty compartment near the end of the train. She put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave her trunk toward the train door. She tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice she dropped it painfully on her foot. 

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins she'd followed through the barrier. 

"Yes, please," Harriet panted. 

"Oy, Frankie! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harriet’s trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment. 

"Thanks," said Harriet, pushing her sweaty hair out of her eyes. 

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harriet’s lightning scar. 

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you -- ?"

"She is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" she added to Harriet. 

"What?" said Harriet. 

"Harriet Evans. " chorused the twins. 

"Oh, her," said Harriet. "I mean, yes, I am. "

The two girls gawked at her, and Harriet felt herself turning red. Then, to her relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door. 

"Frankie? Georgina? Are you there?"

"Coming, mum. "

With a last look at Harriet, the twins hopped off the train. 

Harriet sat down next to the window where, half hidden, she could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying. Their father had just taken out his handkerchief. 

"Ronnie, you've got something on your nose. "

The youngest girl tried to jerk out of the way, but he grabbed her and began rubbing the end of her nose. 

"Dad -- geroff" She wriggled free. 

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on her nosie?" said one of the twins. 

"Shut up," said Ronnie. 

"Where's Penelope?" said their father. 

"She’s coming now. "

The oldest girl came striding into sight. She had already changed into her billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harriet noticed a shiny silver badge on her chest with the letter P on it. 

"Can't stay long, Father," she said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves--"

"Oh, are you a prefect, Penelope?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea. "

"Hang on, I think I remember her saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once--"

"Or twice--"

"A minute--"

"All summer--"

"Oh, shut up," said Penelope the Prefect. 

"How come Penelope gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins. 

"Because she's a prefect," said their father fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term -- send me an owl when you get there. "

He kissed Penelope on the cheek and she left. Then he turned to the twins. 

"Now, you two -- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've -- you've blown up a toilet or--"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet. "

"Great idea though, thanks, dad. "

"It's not funny. And look after Ronnie. "

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us. "

"Shut up," said Ronnie again. She was almost as tall as the twins already and her nose was still pink where her father had rubbed it. 

"Hey, dad, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harriet leaned back quickly so they couldn't see her looking. 

"You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"

"Who?"

"Harriet Evans!"

Harriet heard the little boy’s voice. 

"Oh, dad, can I go on the train and see her, dad, eh please. . . "

"You've already seen her, Jerry, and the poor girl isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is she really, Frankie? How do you know?"

"Asked her. Saw her scar. It's really there -- like lightning.”

"Poor dear -- no wonder she was alone, I wondered. She was ever so polite when she asked how to get onto the platform. "

"Never mind that, do you think she remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their father suddenly became very stern. 

"I forbid you to ask her, Frankie. No, don't you dare. As though she needs reminding of that on her first day at school. "

"All right, keep your hair on. "

A whistle sounded. 

"Hurry up!" their father said, and the three girls clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for him to kiss them good-bye, and their younger brother began to cry. 

"Don't, Jerry, we'll send you loads of owls. "

"We'll send you a Hogwarts' toilet seat. "

"Georgina!"

"Only joking, dad. "

The train began to move. Harriet saw the girls' father waving and their brother, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then he fell back and waved. 

Harriet watched the boy and his father disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harriet felt a great leap of excitement. She didn't know what she was going to -- but it had to be better than what she was leaving behind. 

The door of the compartment slid open and the youngest redheaded girl came in. 

"Anyone sitting there?" she asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harriet. "Everywhere else is full. "

Harriet shook his head and the girl sat down. She glanced at Harriet and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending she hadn't looked. Harriet saw she still had a black mark on her nose. 

"Hey, Ronnie. "

The twins were back. 

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train -- Leah Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there. "

"Right," mumbled Ronnie. 

"Harriet," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Frankie and Georgina Prewett. And this is Ronnie, our sister. See you later, then. "

"Bye," said Harriet and Ronnie. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them. 

"Are you really Harriet Evans?" Ronnie blurted out. 

Harriet nodded. 

"Oh -- well, I thought it might be one of Frankie and Georgina’s jokes," said Ronnie. "And have you really got -- you know. . . "

She pointed at Harriet forehead. 

Harriet pulled back her bangs to show the lightning scar. Ronnie stared. 

"So that's where You-Know-Who -- ?"

"Yes," said Harriet, "but I can't remember it. "

"Nothing?" said Ronnie eagerly. 

"Well -- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else. "

"Wow," said Ronnie. She sat and stared at Harriet for a few moments, then, as though she had suddenly realized what she was doing, she looked quickly out of the window again. 

"Are all your family witches?" asked Harriet, who found Ronnie just as interesting as Ronnie found her. 

"Er -- Yes, I think so," said Ronnie. "I think dad’s got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him. "

"So you must know loads of magic already. "

The Prewett’s were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale girl in Diagon Alley had talked about. 

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ronnie. "What are they like?"

"Horrible -- well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three witch sister. "

"Five," said Ronnie. For some reason, she was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bethany and Charlie have already left -- Bethany was head girl and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Penelope’s a prefect. Frankie and Georgina mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five sisters. I've got Bethany’s old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Penelope’s old rat. "

Ronnie reached inside her jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep. 

"Her name's Scabbers and she's useless, she hardly ever wakes up. Penelope got an owl from my mum for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff -- I mean, I got Scabbers instead. "

Ronnie’s ears went pink. She seemed to think she'd said too much, because she went back to staring out of the window.

Harriet didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, she'd never had any money in her life until a month ago, and she told Ronnie so, all about having to wear Diana’s old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ronnie up. 

". . . and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort--"

Ronnie gasped. 

"What?" said Harriet. 

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ronnie, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people--"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harriet, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn. . . I bet," she added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying her a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class. "

"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough. "

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past. 

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harriet, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to her feet, but Ronnie’s ears went pink again and she muttered that she'd brought sandwiches. Harriet went out into the corridor. 

She had never had any money for candy with the Evans’, and now that she had pockets rattling with gold and silver she was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as she could carry -- but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs. Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harriet had never seen in her life. Not wanting to miss anything, she got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts. 

Ronnie stared as Harriet brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat. 

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harriet, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. 

Ronnie had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. She pulled one of them apart and said, "He always forgets I don't like corned beef. . "

"Swap you for one of these," said Harriet, holding up a pasty. "Go on--"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ronnie. "He hasn't got much time," she added quickly, "you know, with five of us. "

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harriet, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling, sitting there with Ronnie, eating their way through all Harriet’s pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten). 

"What are these?" Harriet asked Ronnie, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not really frogs, are they?" She was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him. 

"No," said Ronnie. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa. "

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know -- Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect -- famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy. "

Harriet unwrapped her Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a woman's face. She wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair. Underneath the picture was the name Ariana Dumbledore. 

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harriet. 

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ronnie. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa -- thanks--"

Harriet turned over her card and read:

ARIANA DUMBLEDORE

CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS

Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for her defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and her work on alchemy with her partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling. 

Harriet turned the card back over and saw, to her astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"She’s gone!"

"Well, you can't expect her to hang around all day," said Ron. "She’ll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her. . . do you want it? You can start collecting. "

Ronnie’s eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped. 

"Help yourself," said Harriet. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos. "

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ronnie sounded amazed. "Weird!"

Harriet stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on her card and gave her a small smile. Ronnie was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harriet couldn't keep her eyes off them. Soon she had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, Circe, Paracelsus, and Merlin. She finally tore her eyes away from the Druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. 

"You want to be careful with those," Ronnie warned Harriet. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor -- you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. Georgina reckons he had a booger-flavored one once. "

Ronnie picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner. 

"Bleaaargh -- see? Sprouts. "

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. Harriet got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ronnie wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper. 

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills. 

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced girl Harriet had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. She looked tearful. 

"Sorry," she said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, she wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harriet. 

"Yes," said the girl miserably. "Well, if you see him. . . "

She left. 

"Don't know why she's so bothered," said Ronnie. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk. "

The rat was still snoozing on Ronnie’s lap. 

"She might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ronnie in disgust. "I tried to turn her yellow yesterday to make her more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look. . . "

She rummaged around in her trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end. 

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway--"

She had just raised her wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless girl was back, but this time she had a boy with her. He was already wearing his new Hogwarts robes. 

"Has anyone seen a toad? Netta’s lost one," he said. He had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. 

"We've already told her we haven't seen it," said Ronnie, but the boy wasn't listening, he was looking at the wand in her hand. 

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then. "

He sat down. Ronnie looked taken aback. 

"Er -- all right. "

She cleared her throat. 

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow. "

She waved her wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep. 

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the boy. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard -- I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough -- I'm Hermes Granger, by the way, who are you?"

He said all this very fast. 

Harriet looked at Ronnie, and was relieved to see by her stunned face that she hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ronnie Prewett," Ronnie muttered. 

"Harriet Evans," said Harriet. 

"Are you really?" said Hermes. "I know all about you, of course -- I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. "

"Am I?" said Harriet, feeling dazed. 

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermes. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore herself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . Anyway, we'd better go and look for Netta’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon. "

And he left, taking the toadless girl with him. 

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope he’s not in it," said Ronnie. She threw her wand back into her trunk. "Stupid spell -- Georgina gave it to me, bet she knew it was a dud. "

"What house are your sisters in?" asked Harriet. 

"Gryffindor," said Ronnie. Gloom seemed to be settling on her again. "Mum and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin. "

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ronnie. She flopped back into her seat, looking depressed. 

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harriet, trying to take Ronnie’s mind off houses. "So what do your oldest sisters do now that they've left, anyway?"

Harriet was wondering what a witch did once she’d finished school. 

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bethany’s in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ronnie. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles -- someone tried to rob a high security vault. "

Harriet stared. 

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My mum says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it. "

Harriet turned this news over in her mind. She was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. She supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying. 

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ronnie asked. 

"Er -- I don't know any. " Harriet confessed. 

"What!" Ronnie looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world -- " And she was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games she'd been to with her brothers and the broomstick she'd like to get if she had the money. She was just taking Harriet through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Netta the toadless girl, or Hermes Granger this time. 

Three boys entered, and Harriet recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale girl from Madam Malkin's robe shop. She was looking at Harriet with a lot more interest than she’d shown back in Diagon Alley. 

"Is it true?" She said. "They're saying all down the train that Harriet Evans is in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harriet. She was looking at the other girl. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale girl, they looked like bodyguards. 

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale girl carelessly, noticing where Harriet was looking. "And my name's Black, Dahlia Black. "

Ronnie gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Dahlia Black looked at her. 

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My mother told me all the Prewetss have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford. "

She turned back to Harriet. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Evans. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there. "

She held out her hand to shake Harriet’s , but Harriet didn't take it. 

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," she said coolly. 

Dahlia Black didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in her pale cheeks. 

"I'd be careful if I were you, Evans," she said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Prewett’s and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you. "

Both Harriet and Ronnie stood up. 

"Say that again," Ronnie said, her face as red as her hair. 

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Black sneered. 

"Unless you get out now," said Harriet, more bravely than she felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than her or Ronnie. 

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, girls? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some. "

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ronnie -- Ronnie leapt forward, but before she'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell. 

Scabbers the rat was hanging off her finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle -- Crabbe and Black backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermes Granger had come in. 

"What has been going on?" He said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ronnie picking up Scabbers by her tail. 

"I think she's been knocked out," Ronnie said to Harriet. She looked closer at Scabbers. "No -- I don't believe it -- she's gone back to sleep. "

And so she had. 

"You've met Black before?"

Harriet explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley. 

"I've heard of her family," said Ronnie darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My mum doesn't believe it. She says Black’s mother didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side. " she turned to Hermes. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ronnie, scowling at him. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right -- I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermes in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ronnie glared at him as he left. Harriet peered out of the window. It was getting dark. She could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down. 

She and Ronnie took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ronnie’s were a bit short for her, you could see her trainers underneath them. 

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately. "

Harriet’s stomach lurched with nerves and Ronnie, she saw, looked pale under her freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor. 

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harriet shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harriet heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harriet?"

Hagrid's big face beamed over the sea of heads. 

"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harriet thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Netta, the girl who kept losing her toad, sniffed once or twice. 

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over her shoulder, "jus' round this bend here. "

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. 

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harriet and Ronnie were followed into their boat by Netta and Hermes. 

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to herself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood. 

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. 

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them. 

"Trevor!" cried Netta blissfully, holding out her hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. 

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. 

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	7. The Sorting Hat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired wizard in emerald-green robes stood there. He had a very stern face and Harriet’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid. 

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here. "

He pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Evans' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. 

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harriet could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -- the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. 

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. 

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. "

His eyes lingered for a moment on Netta’s cloak, which was fastened under her left ear, and on Ronnie’s smudged nose. Harriet nervously tried to flatten her hair. 

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly. "

He left the chamber. Harriet swallowed. 

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" She asked Ronnie. 

"Some sort of test, I think. Frankie said it hurts a lot, but I think she was joking. "

Harriet’s heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But she didn't know any magic yet -- what on earth would she have to do? She hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. She looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermes Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells he’d learned and wondering which one he’d need. Harriet tried hard not to listen to him. She’d never been more nervous, never, not even when she'd had to take a school report home to the Evans’ saying that she'd somehow turned her teacher's wig blue. She kept her eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead her to her doom. 

Then something happened that made her jump about a foot in the air -- several people behind her screamed. 

"What the -- ?"

She gasped. So did the people around her. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance--"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -- I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. 

Nobody answered. 

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely. 

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know. "

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. "

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. 

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me. "

Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to lead, Harriet got into line behind a girl with sandy hair, with Ronnie behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall. 

Harriet had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Harriet looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She heard Hermes whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History. "

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens. 

Harriet quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool he put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Uncle Peter wouldn't have let it in the house. 

Maybe they had to try and get a rabbit out of it, Harriet thought wildly, that seemed the sort of thing -- noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, she stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me. 

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all. 

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be. 

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends. 

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. 

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ronnie whispered to w. "I'll kill Frankie, she was going on about wrestling a troll. "

Harriet smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but she did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harriet didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for her. 

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. 

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," he said. "Abbott, Hancock!"

A pink-faced boy with a blonde bowl cut stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over his eyes, and sat down. A moments pause --

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. 

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hancock went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harriet saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at him. 

"Granger, Hermes!"

Hermes almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on his head. 

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ronnie groaned. 

The table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harriet could see Ronnie’s twin brothers catcalling. 

"Bulstrode, Melvin" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harriet’s imagination, after all she'd heard about Slytherin, but she thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. 

"Bones, Simon!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Simon scuttled off to sit next to Hancock. 

When Netta Fortesque, the girl who kept losing her toad, was called, she fell over on her way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Netta. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Netta ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Maura. "

She was starting to feel definitely sick now. She remembered being picked for teams during gym at her old school. She had always been last to be chosen, not because she was no good, but because no one wanted Diana to think they liked her. 

"Boot, Terri!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terri as she joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Marcus" went to Ravenclaw too, but “Parkinson, Percy” became a Slytherin. 

"Finch-Fletchley, Justine!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harriet noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Sinead," the sandy-haired girl next to Harriet in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared her a Gryffindor. 

Black swaggered forward when her name was called and got her wish at once: the hat had barely touched her head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Black went to join her friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. 

A horrible thought struck Harriet, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if she wasn't chosen at all? What if she just sat there with the hat over her eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off her head and said there had obviously been a mistake and she'd better get back on the train?

There weren't many people left now. "Moon". . . , "Perks". . . , "Brown". . . , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil". . . , then "Nott, Theodora". . . , and then, at last --

"Evans, Harriet!"

As Harriet stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall. 

"Evans, did he say?"

"The Harriet Evans?"

The last thing Harriet saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited. 

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, A my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting. . . So where shall I put you?"

Harriet gripped the edges of the stool and thought, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. 

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that -- no? Well, if you're sure -- better be GRYFFINDOR!"

Harriet heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. She took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table. She was so relieved to have been chosen and not put in Slytherin, she hardly noticed that she was getting the loudest cheer yet. Penelope the Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Prewett twins yelled, "We got Evans! We got Evans!" Harriet sat down opposite the ghost in the ruff she'd seen earlier. The ghost patted her arm, giving Harriet the sudden, horrible feeling she'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water. 

She could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest her sat Hagrid, who caught her eye and gave her the thumbs up. Harriet grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Ariana Dumbledore. Harriet recognized her at once from the card she'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harriet spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young woman from the Leaky Cauldron. She was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. 

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dinah," a Black girl even taller than Ronnie, joined Harriet at the Gryffindor table. Then it was Ronnie’s turn. She was pale green by now. Harriet crossed her fingers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harriet clapped loudly with the rest as Ronnie collapsed into the chair next to her. 

"Well done, Ronnie, excellent," said Penelope Prewett pompously across Harriet as "Zabini, Blaire," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up his scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. 

Harriet looked down at her empty gold plate. She had only just realized how hungry she was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages ago. 

Ariana Dumbledore had gotten to her feet. She was beaming at the students, her arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased her more than to see them all there. 

"Welcome," she said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

She sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harriet didn't know whether to laugh or not. 

"Is she -- a bit mad?" She asked Penelope uncertainly. 

"Mad?" said Penelope airily. "She’s a genius! Best witch in the world! But she is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harriet?"

Harriet’s mouth fell open. The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs. 

The Evans’ had never exactly starved Harriet, but she'd never been allowed to eat as much as she liked. Diana had always taken anything that Harriet really wanted, even if it made her sick. Harriet piled her plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious. 

"That does look good," said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harriet cut up her steak. 

"Can't you -- ?"

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower. "

"I know who you are!" said Ronnie suddenly. "My sisters told me about you -- you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -- " the ghost began stiffly, but sandy-haired Sinead Finnigan interrupted. 

"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted. 

"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So -- new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable -- he's the Slytherin ghost. "

Harriet looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. She was right next to Black who, Harriet was pleased to see, didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements. 

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Sinead with great interest. 

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately. 

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding. . . 

As Harriet helped herself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families. 

"I'm half-and-half," said Sinead. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him. "

The others laughed. 

"What about you, Netta?" said Ronnie. 

"Well, my grandpa brought me up and he’s a wizard," said Netta, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me -- he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned -- but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced -- all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Grandpa was crying, he was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here -- they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad. "

On Harriet’s other side, Penelope Prewett and Hermes were talking about lessons ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult -- "; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing -- "). 

Harriet, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from her goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in her absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. 

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harriet’s eyes -- and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harriet’s forehead. 

"Ouch!" Harriet clapped a hand to her head. 

"What is it?" asked Penelope. 

"N-nothing. "

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harriet had gotten from the teacher's look -- a feeling that she didn't like Harriet at all. 

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" She asked Penelope. 

"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder she's looking so nervous, that's Professor Prince. She teaches Potions, but she doesn't want to -- everyone knows she's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Prince. "

Harriet watched Prince for a while, but Prince didn't look at her again. 

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to her feet again. The hall fell silent. 

"Ahem -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. 

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. "

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Prewett twins. 

"I have also been asked by Mrs. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. 

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Master Hooch. 

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death. "

Harriet laughed, but she was one of the few who did. 

"She’s not serious?" She muttered to Penelope. 

"Must be," said Penelope, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because she usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere -- the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think she might have told us prefects, at least. "

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harriet noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. 

Dumbledore gave her wand a little flick, as if she was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. 

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot, just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot. "

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Prewett twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with her wand and when they had finished, she was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," she said, wiping her eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Penelope through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harriet’s legs were like lead again, but only because she was so tired and full of food. She was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Penelope led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Harriet was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt. 

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Penelope took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. 

"Peeves," Penelope whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist.” She raised her voice, "Peeves -- show yourself. "

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. 

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. 

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked. 

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Penelope. 

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Netta’s head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed. 

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Penelope, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are. "

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. 

"Password?" she said. 

"Caput Draconis," said Penelope, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it -- Netta needed a leg up -- and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs. 

Penelope directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase -- they were obviously in one of the towers -- they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed. 

"Great food, isn't it?" Ronnie muttered to Harriet through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! She’s chewing my sheets. "

Harriet was going to ask Ronnie if she'd had any of the treacle tart, but she fell asleep almost at once. 

Perhaps Harriet had eaten a bit too much, because she had a very strange dream. She was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to her, telling her she must transfer to Slytherin at once, because it was her destiny. Harriet told the turban she didn't want to be in Slytherin; it got heavier and heavier; she tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully -- and there was Black, laughing at her as she struggled with it -- then Black turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Prince, whose laugh became high and cold -- there was a burst of green light and Harriet woke, sweating and shaking. 

She rolled over and fell asleep again, and when she woke next day, she didn't remember the dream at all.


	8. The Potions Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

“There, look.”

"Where?"

"Next to the tall kid with the red hair. "

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Did you see her face?"

"Did you see her scar?"

Whispers followed Harriet from the moment she left her dormitory the next day. People lining up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at her, or doubled back to pass her in the corridors again, staring. Harriet wished they wouldn't, because she was trying to concentrate on finding her way to classes. 

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harriet was sure the coats of armor could walk. 

The ghosts didn't help, either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. Nearly Headless Nick was always happy to point new Gryffindors in the right direction, but Peeves the Poltergeist was worth two locked doors and a trick staircase if you met him when you were late for class. He would drop wastepaper baskets on your head, pull rugs from under your feet, pelt you with bits of chalk, or sneak up behind you, invisible, grab your nose, and screech, "GOT YOUR CONK!"

Even worse than Peeves, if that was possible, was the caretaker, Ardenne Filch. Harriet and Ronnie managed to get on the wrong side of her on their very first morning. Filch found them trying to force their way through a door that unluckily turned out to be the entrance to the out-of-bounds corridor on the third floor. She wouldn't believe they were lost, was sure they were trying to break into it on purpose, and was threatening to lock them in the dungeons when they were rescued by Professor Quirrell, who was passing. 

Filch owned a cat called Mr. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eyes just like Filch's. He patrolled the corridors alone. Break a rule in front of him, put just one toe out of line, and he’d whisk off for Filch, who'd appear, wheezing, two seconds later. Filch knew the secret passageways of the school better than anyone (except perhaps the Prewett twins) and could pop up as suddenly as any of the ghosts. The students all hated her, and it was the dearest ambition of many to give Mr. Norris a good kick. 

And then, once you had managed to find them, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harriet quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words. 

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little wizard called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. 

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little witch who had to stand on a pile of books to see over her desk. At the start of their first class she took the roll call, and when she reached Harriet’s name she gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. 

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harriet had been quite right to think he wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, he gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in his first class. 

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," he said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned. "

Then he changed his desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Hermes Granger had made any difference to his match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermes a rare smile.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. Her classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire she'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get her one of these days. Her turban, she told them, had been given to her by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Sinead Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Prewett twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever she went. 

Harriet was very relieved to find out that she wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people had come from Muggle families and, like her, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. There was so much to learn that even people like Ronnie didn't have much of a head start. 

Friday was an important day for Harriet and Ronnie. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once. 

"What have we got today?" Harriet asked Ronnie as she poured sugar on her porridge. 

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ronnie. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say she always favors them -- we'll be able to see if it's true. "

"Wish McGonagall favored us," said Harriet. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped him from giving them a huge pile of homework the day before. 

Just then, the mail arrived. Harriet had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps. 

Hedwig hadn't brought Harriet anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble her ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harriet’s plate. Harriet tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

Dear Harry,

I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?

I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig. 

Hagrid

Harriet borrowed Ronnie’s quill, scribbled Yes, please, see you later on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again. 

It was lucky that Harriet had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to her so far. 

At the start-of-term banquet, Harriet had gotten the idea that Professor Prince disliked her. By the end of the first Potions lesson, she knew she'd been wrong. Prince didn't dislike Harriet -- she hated him. 

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls. 

Prince, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, she paused at Harriet’s name. 

"Ah, Yes," she said softly, "Harriet Evans. Our new -- celebrity. "

Dahlia Black and her friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands. Prince finished calling the names and looked up at the class. Her eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels. 

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," she began. She spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Prince had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach. "

More silence followed this little speech. Harriet and Ronnie exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermes Granger was on the edge of his seat and looked desperate to start proving that he wasn't a dunderhead. 

"Evans!" said Prince suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Powdered root of what to an infusion of what ? Harriet glanced at Ronnie, who looked as stumped as she was; Hermes’ hand had shot into the air. 

"I don't know, ma’am," said Harriet. 

Prince’s lips curled into a sneer. 

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything. "

She ignored Hermes’s hand. 

"Let's try again. Evans, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermes stretched his hand as high into the air as it would go without him leaving his seat, but Harriet didn't have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. She tried not to look at Black, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were shaking with laughter. 

"I don't know, ma’am. "

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Evans?" Harriet forced herself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. She had looked through her books at the Evans', but did Prince expect her to remember everything in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi ?

Prince was still ignoring Hermes’ quivering hand. 

"What is the difference, Evans, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermes stood up, his hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling. 

"I don't know," said Harriet quietly. "I think Hermes does, though, why don't you try him?"

A few people laughed; Harriet caught Sinead’s eye, and Sinead winked. Prince, however, was not pleased. 

"Sit down," she snapped at Hermes. "For your information, Evans, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Prince said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Evans. "

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Prince put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. She swept around in her long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Black, whom she seemed to like. She was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Black had stewed her horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Netta had somehow managed to melt Sinead’s cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Netta, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over her arms and legs. 

"Idiot girl!" snarled Prince, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of her wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Netta whimpered as boils started to pop up all over her nose. 

"Take her up to the hospital wing," Prince spat at Sinead. Then she rounded on harry and Ronnie, who had been working next to Netta. 

"You -- Evans -- why didn't you tell her not to add the quills? Thought she'd make you look good if she got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor. "

This was so unfair that harry opened her mouth to argue, but Ronnie kicked her behind their cauldron. 

"Don't push it," she muttered, "I've heard Prince can turn very nasty. "

As they climbed the steps out of the dungeon an hour later, Harriet’s mind was racing and her spirits were low. She’d lost two points for Gryffindor in her very first week -- why did Prince hate her so much?

"Cheer up," said Ronnie, "Prince’s always taking points off Frankie and Georgina. Can I come and meet Hagrid with you?"

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door. 

When Harriet knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang -- back. "

Hagrid's big face appeared in the crack as she pulled the door open. 

"Hang on," she said. "Back, Fang. "

She let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. 

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. 

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ronnie and started licking her ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked. 

"This is Ronnie," Harriet told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. 

"Another Prewett , eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ronnie’s freckles. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest. "

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harriet and Ronnie pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harriet’s knee and drooled all over her robes. 

Harriet and Ronnie were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git. "

"An' as fer that cat, Mr. Norris, I'd like ter introduce him to Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, he follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of him -- Filch puts him up to it. "

Harriet told Hagrid about Prince’s lesson. Hagrid, like Ronnie, told Harriet not to worry about it, that Prince liked hardly any of the students. 

"But she seemed to really hate me. "

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should she?"

Yet Harriet couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet her eyes when she said that. 

"How's yer sister Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ronnie. "I liked her a lot -- great with animals. "

Harriet wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ronnie told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harriet picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet :

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. 

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. 

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon. 

Harriet remembered Ronnie telling her on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ronnie hadn't mentioned the date. 

"Hagrid!" said Harriet, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harriet eyes this time. She grunted and offered her another rock cake. Harriet read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harriet and Ronnie walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harriet thought that none of the lessons she'd had so far had given her as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Prince that she didn't want to tell Harriet ?


	9. The Midnight Duel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Harriet had never believed she would meet a girl she hated more than Diana, but that was before she met Dahlia Black. Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Black much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday -- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harriet darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Black. "

She had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else. 

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ronnie reasonably. "Anyway, I know Black’s always going on about how good she is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk. "

Black certainly did talk about flying a lot. She complained loudly about first years never getting on the house Quidditch teams and told long, boastful stories that always seemed to end with her narrowly escaping Muggles in helicopters. She wasn't the only one, though: the way Sinead Finnigan told it, she'd spent most of her childhood zooming around the countryside on her broomstick. Even Ronnie would tell anyone who'd listen about the time she'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom. Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ronnie had already had a big argument with Dinah Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ronnie couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Harriet had caught Ronnie prodding Dinah’s poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move. 

Netta had never been on a broomstick in her life, because her grandfather had never let her near one. Privately, Harriet felt he’d had good reason, because Netta managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. 

Hermes Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Netta was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that he hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday he bored them all stupid with flying tips he’d gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Netta was hanging on to his every word, desperate for anything that might help her hang on to her broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermes’ lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail. 

Harriet hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Black had been quick to notice, of course. Black’s eagle owl was always bringing her packages of sweets from home, which she opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. 

A barn owl brought Netta a small package from her grandfather. She opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke. 

"It's a Remembrall!" she explained. "Grandpa knows I forget things -- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh. . . " Her face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, ". . . you've forgotten something. . . "

Netta was trying to remember what she'd forgotten when Dahlia Black, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of her hand. 

Harriet and Ronnie jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Black, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash. 

"What's going on?"

"Black’s got my Remembrall, Professor. "

Scowling, Black quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. 

"Just looking," she said, and she sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind her. 

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harriet, Ronnie, and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance. 

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harriet had heard Frankie and Georgina Prewett complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left. 

Their teacher, Master Hooch, arrived. He had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. 

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" He barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up. "

Harriet glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles. 

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Master Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted. 

Harriet’s broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermes Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Netta’s hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harriet; there was a quaver in Netta’s voice that said only too clearly that she wanted to keep her feet on the ground. 

Master Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harriet and Ronnie were delighted when he told Black she'd been doing it wrong for years. 

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Master Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two--"

But Netta, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Master Hooch's lips. 

"Come back, girl!" He shouted, but Netta was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. Harriet saw her scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw her gasp, slip sideways off the broom and --

WHAM -- a thud and a nasty crack and Netta lay facedown on the grass in a heap. Her broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight. 

Master Hooch was bending over Netta, his face as white as hers. 

"Broken wrist," Harriet heard him mutter. "Come on, girl -- it's all right, up you get. "

He turned to the rest of the class. 

"None of you is to move while I take this girl to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch. ' Come on, dear. "

Netta, her face tear-streaked, clutching her wrist, hobbled off with Master Hooch, who had his arm around her. 

No sooner were they out of earshot than Black burst into laughter. 

"Did you see her face, the great lump?"

The other Slytherins joined in. 

"Shut up, Black," snapped Paavan Patil. 

"Ooh, sticking up for Fortesque?" said Percy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Paavan. "

"Look!" said Black, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Fortesque’s grandpa sent her. "

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as she held it up. 

"Give that here, Black," said Harriet quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch. 

Black smiled nastily. 

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Fortesque to find -- how about -- up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harriet yelled, but Black had leapt onto her broomstick and taken off. She hadn't been lying, she could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak she called, "Come and get it, Evans!"

Harriet grabbed her broom. 

"No!" shouted Hermes Granger. "Master Hooch told us not to move -- you'll get us all into trouble. "

Harriet ignored him. Blood was pounding in her ears. She mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up she soared; air rushed through her hair, and her robes whipped out behind her -- and in a rush of fierce joy she realized she'd found something she could do without being taught -- this was easy, this was wonderful. She pulled her broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ronnie. 

She turned her broomstick sharply to face Black in midair. Black looked stunned. 

"Give it here," Harriet called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Black, trying to sneer, but looking worried. 

Harriet knew, somehow, what to do. She leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Black like a javelin. Black only just got out of the way in time; Harriet made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people below were clapping. 

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Black," Harriet called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Black. 

"Catch it if you can, then!" She shouted, and she threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground. 

Harriet saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. She leaned forward and pointed her broom handle down -- next second she was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball -- wind whistled in her ears, mingled with the screams of people watching -- she stretched out her hand -- a foot from the ground she caught it, just in time to pull her broom straight, and she toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist. 

"HARRIET EVANS!"

Her heart sank faster than she'd just dived. Professor McGonagall was running toward them. She got to her feet, trembling. 

"Never -- in all my time at Hogwarts--"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and his glasses flashed furiously, " -- how dare you -- might have broken your neck--"

"It wasn't her fault, Professor--"

"Be quiet, Mr. Patil--"

"But Black--"

"That's enough, Miss Prewett. Evans, follow me, now. "

Harriet caught sight of Black, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as she left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as he strode toward the castle. She was going to be expelled, she just knew it. She wanted to say something to defend herself, but there seemed to be something wrong with her voice. Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at her; she had to jog to keep up. Now she'd done it. She hadn't even lasted two weeks. She’d be packing her bags in ten minutes. What would the Evans’ say when she turned up on the doorstep?

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to her. He wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Harriet trotting miserably behind him. Maybe he was taking her to Dumbledore. She thought of Hagrid, expelled but allowed to stay on as gamekeeper. Perhaps she could be Hagrid's assistant. Her stomach twisted as she imagined it, watching Ronnie and the others becoming wizards, while she stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag. 

Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. He opened the door and poked his head inside. 

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood? thought Harriet, bewildered; was Wood a cane he was going to use on her?

But Wood turned out to be a person, a muscled fifth-year girl who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused. 

"Follow me, you two," said Professor McGonagall, and they marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harriet. 

"In here. "

Professor McGonagall pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard. 

"Out, Peeves!" he barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two girls. 

"Evans, this is Olivia Wood. Wood -- I've found you a Seeker. "

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight. 

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The girl’s a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Evans?"

Harriet nodded silently. She didn't have a clue what was going on, but she didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to her legs. 

"She caught that thing in her hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch herself. Charlie Prewett couldn't have done it. "

Wood was now looking as though all her dreams had come true at once. 

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Evans?" she asked excitedly. 

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained. 

"She’s just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harriet and staring at her. "Light -- speedy -- we'll have to get her a decent broom, Professor -- a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say. "

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Stevanie Prince in the face for weeks. . . "

Professor McGonagall peered sternly over his glasses at Harriet. 

"I want to hear you're training hard, Evans, or I may change my mind about punishing you. "

Then he suddenly smiled. 

"Your mother would have been proud," he said. "She was an excellent Quidditch player herself. "

"You're joking. "

It was dinnertime. Harriet had just finished telling Ronnie what had happened when she'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ronnie had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to her mouth, but she'd forgotten all about it. 

"Seeker ?" She said. "But first years never -- you must be the youngest house player in about--"

"-- a century," said Harriet, shoveling pie into her mouth. She felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Wood told me. "

Ronnie was so amazed, so impressed, she just sat and gaped at Harriet. 

"I start training next week," said Harriet. "Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret. "

Frankie and Georgina Prewett now came into the hall, spotted Harriet, and hurried over. 

"Well done," said Georgina in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too -- Beaters. "

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Frankie. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harriet, Wood was almost skipping when she told us. "

"Anyway, we've got to go, Leah Jordan reckons she's found a new secret passageway out of the school. "

"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you. "

Frankie and Georgina had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Black, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. 

"Having a last meal, Evans? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harriet coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl. 

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Black. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only -- no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course she has," said Ronnie, wheeling around. "I'm her second, who's yours?"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. 

"Crabbe," she said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked. "

When Black had gone, Ronnie and Harriet looked at each other. 

"What is a wizard's duel?" said Harriet. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ronnie casually, getting started at last on her cold pie. Catching the look on Harriet’s face, she added quickly, "But people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Black’ll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet she expected you to refuse, anyway. "

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch her on the nose," Ronnie suggested. 

"Excuse me. "

They both looked up. It was Hermes Granger. 

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ronnie. 

Hermes ignored her and spoke to Harriet. 

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Black were saying--"

"Bet you could," Ronnie muttered. 

"-- and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you. "

"And it's really none of your business," said Harriet. 

"Good-bye," said Ronnie. 

All the same, it wasn't what you'd call the perfect end to the day, Harriet thought, as she lay awake much later listening to Delia and Sinead falling asleep (Netta wasn't back from the hospital wing). Ronnie had spent all evening giving her advice such as "If she tries to curse you, you'd better dodge it, because I can't remember how to block them. " There was a very good chance they were going to get caught by Filch or Mr. Norris, and Harriet felt she was pushing her luck, breaking another school rule today. On the other hand, Black’s sneering face kept looming up out of the darkness -- this was her big chance to beat Black face-to-face. She couldn't miss it. 

"Half-past eleven," Ronnie muttered at last, "we'd better go. "

They pulled on their dressing gowns, picked up their wands, and crept across the tower room, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. They had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest them, "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harriet. "

A lamp flickered on. It was Hermes Granger, wearing a pink dressing gown and a frown. 

"You!" said Ronnie furiously. "Go back to bed!"

"I almost told your sister," Hermes snapped, "Penelope -- she’s a prefect, she'd put a stop to this. "

Harriet couldn't believe anyone could be so interfering. 

"Come on," she said to Ronnie. She pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole. 

Hermes wasn't going to give up that easily. He followed Ronnie through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose. 

"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells. "

"Go away. "

"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so--"

But what they were, they didn't find out. Hermes had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found himself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermes was locked out of Gryffindor tower. 

"Now what am I going to do?" he asked shrilly. 

"That's your problem," said Ronnie. "We've got to go, we're going to be late. "

They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermes caught up with them. 

"I'm coming with you," he said. 

"You are not. "

"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If she finds all three of us I'll tell her the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up. "

"You've got some nerve -- " said Ronnie loudly. 

"Shut up, both of you!" said Harriet sharply. I heard something. "

It was a sort of snuffling. 

"Mr. Norris?" breathed Ronnie, squinting through the dark. 

It wasn't Mr. Norris. It was Netta. She was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer. 

"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed. "

"Keep your voice down, Netta. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere. "

"How's your arm?" said Harriet. 

"Fine," said Netta, showing them. "Master Pomfrey mended it in about a minute. "

"Good -- well, look, Netta, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later--"

"Don't leave me!" said Netta, scrambling to her feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already. "

Ronnie looked at her watch and then glared furiously at Hermes and Netta. 

"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you. "

Hermes opened his mouth, perhaps to tell Ronnie exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harriet hissed at him to be quiet and beckoned them all forward. 

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn Harriet expected to run into Filch or Mr. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room. 

Black and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harriet took out his wand in case Black leapt in and started at once. The minutes crept by. 

"She’s late, maybe she’s chickened out," Ronnie whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harriet had only just raised her wand when they heard someone speak -- and it wasn't Black. 

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner. "

It was Filch speaking to Mr. Norris. Horror-struck, Harriet waved madly at the other three to follow her as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Netta’s robes had barely whipped round the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room. 

"They're in here somewhere," they heard her mutter, "probably hiding. "

"This way!" Harriet mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Netta suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run she tripped, grabbed Ronnie around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor. 

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle. 

"RUN!" Harriet yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following -- they swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harriet in the lead, without any idea where they were or where they were going -- they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room. 

"I think we've lost her," Harriet panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping her forehead. Netta was bent double, wheezing and spluttering. 

"I -- told -- you," Hermes gasped, clutching at the stitch in his chest, "I -- told -- you. "

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ronnie, "quickly as possible. "

"Black tricked you," Hermes said to Harriet. "You realize that, don't you? She was never going to meet you -- Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Black must have tipped her off. "

Harriet thought he was probably right, but she wasn't going to tell him that. 

"Let's go. "

It wasn't going to be that simple. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them. 

It was Peeves. She caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight. 

"Shut up, Peeves -- please -- you'll get us thrown out. "

Peeves cackled. 

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty. "

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please. "

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know. "

"Get out of the way," snapped Ronnie, taking a swipe at Peeves this was a big mistake. 

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door -- and it was locked. 

"This is it!" Ronnie moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as she could toward Peeves's shouts. 

"Oh, move over," Hermes snarled. He grabbed Harriet’s wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, "Alohomora!"

The lock clicked and the door swung open -- they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening. 

"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me. "

"Say 'please. '"

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go ?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice. 

"All right -- please. "

"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And they heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage. 

"She thinks this door is locked," Harriet whispered. "I think we'll be okay -- get off, Netta!" For Netta had been tugging on the sleeve of Harriet’s dressing gown for the last minute. "What ?"

Harriet turned around -- and saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, she was sure she'd walked into a nightmare -- this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren't in a room, as she had supposed. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden. 

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs. 

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Harriet knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant. 

Harriet groped for the doorknob -- between Filch and death, she'd take Filch. 

They fell backward -- Harriet slammed the door shut, and they ran, they almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else, because they didn't see her anywhere, but they hardly cared -- all they wanted to do was put as much space as possible between them and that monster. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor. 

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their dressing gowns hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces. 

"Never mind that -- pig snout, pig snout," panted Harriet, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs. 

It was a while before any of them said anything. Netta, indeed, looked as if she'd never speak again. 

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ronnie finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does. "

Hermes had got both his breath and his bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" he snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on. 

"The floor?" Harriet suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads. "

"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something. "

He stood up, glaring at them. 

"I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed -- or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. "

Ronnie stared after him, her mouth open. 

"No, we don't mind," she said. "You'd think we dragged him along, wouldn't you. 

But Hermes had given Harriet something else to think about as she climbed back into bed. The dog was guarding something. . . What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide -- except perhaps Hogwarts. 

It looked as though Harriet had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.


	10. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Black couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Harriet and Ronnie were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning Harriet and Ronnie thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. In the meantime, Harriet filled Ronnie in about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ronnie.

"Or both," said Harriet.

But as all they knew for sure about the mysterious object was that it was about two inches long, they didn't have much chance of guessing what it was without further clues.

Neither Netta nor Hermes showed the slightest interest in what lay underneath the dog and the trapdoor. All Netta cared about was never going near the dog again.

Hermes was now refusing to speak to Harriet and Ronnie, but he was such a bossy know-it-all that they saw this as an added bonus. All they really wanted now was a way of getting back at Black, and to their great delight, just such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Harriet was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of her, knocking her bacon to the floor. They had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Harriet ripped open the letter first, which was luck, because it said:

"DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Olivia Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor McGonagall"

Harriet had difficulty hiding her glee as she handed the note to Ronnie to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ronnie moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

They left the hall quickly, wanting the unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Black seized the package from Harriet and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," she said, throwing it back to Harriet with a mixture of jealousy and spit on her face. "You'll be in for it this time, Evans, first years aren't allowed them."

Ronnie couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," she said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got at home, Black, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ronnie grinned at Harriet. "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Prewett, you couldn't afford half the handle," Black snapped back. "I suppose you and your sisters have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ronnie could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Black's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, girls!" she squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Black quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harriet. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Evans. And what model is it?

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, it is," said Harriet, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Black's face. "And it's really thanks to Black here that I've got it," she added.

Harriet and Ronnie headed upstairs, smothering their laughter at Black's obvious rage and confusion.

"Well, it's true," Harriet chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase, "If he hadn't stolen Netta's Remeberall I wouldn't be on the team..."

"So I suppose you thin that's a reward for breaking rules?" came an angry voice from just behind them. Hermes was stomping up the stairs, looking disapprovingly at the package in Harriet's hand.

"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" said Harriet.

"Yes, don't stop now," said Ronnie, "it's doing us so much good."

Hermes marched away with his nose in the air.

Harriet had a lot of trouble keeping her mind on her lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where her new broomstick was lying under her bed, or straying off to the Quidditch fiedl where she'd be learning to play that night. She bolted her dinner that evening without noticing what she was eating, and then rushed upstairs with Ronnie to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Ronnie sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Harriet's bedspread.

Even Harriet, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Harriet left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Qudditch field. She'd never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to she what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harriet of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Wood, Harriet mounted her broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling - she swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever she wanted at her lightest touch.

"Hey, Evans, come down!"

Olivia Wood had arrived. She was carrying a large wooden crate under her arm. Harriet landed next to her.

"Very nice," said Wood, her eyes glinting. " I see what McGonagall meant...you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

She opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Wood. "Now, Qudditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Harriet repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a football.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Harriet recited. "So - that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" said Wood curiously.

"Never mind," said Harriet quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper - I'm Keeper for Gryffindor. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Harriet, who was determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?" She pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Wood. "Take this."

She handed Harriet a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

She showed Harriet two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Harriet noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Wood warned Harriet. She bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Harriet's face. Harriet swung at it with the bat to stop it from breaking her nose, and sent it zigzagging away into the air - it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Wood, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"See?" Wood panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's what you have two Beaters on each team - the Prewett twins are ours - it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So - think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Harriet reeled off.

"Very good," said Wood.

"Er -- have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Harriet asked, hoping she sounded offhand.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers--"

"-- unless they crack my head open. "

"Don't worry, the Prewett's are more than a match for the Bludgers -- I mean, they're like a pair of human Bludgers themselves. "

Wood reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins her team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages -- I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep. Well, that's it, any questions?"

Harriet shook her head. She understood what she had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Wood, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these. "

she pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of her pocket and a few minutes later, she and Harriet were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as she could in every direction for Harriet to catch.

Harriet didn't miss a single one, and Wood was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Wood happily as they trudged back up to the castle. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Prewett, and she could have played for England if she hadn't gone off chasing dragons. "

Perhaps it was because she was now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all her homework, but Harriet could hardly believe it when she realized that she'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. Her lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that she thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen her make Netta's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Harriet's partner was Sinead Finnigan (which was a relief, because Netta had been trying to catch his eye). Ronnie, however, was to be working with Hermes Granger. It was hard to tell whether Ronnie or Hermes was angrier about this. He hadn't spoken to either of them since the day Harriet's broomstick had arrived.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of her pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest. "

It was very difficult. Harriet and Sinead swished and flicked, but the feather they were supposed to be sending skyward just lay on the desktop. Sinead got so impatient that she prodded it with her wand and set fire to it -- Harriet had to put it out with her hat.

Ronnie, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" she shouted, waving her long arms like a windmill.

"You're saying it wrong," Harriet heard Hermes snap. "It's Wing- gar -dium Levi- o -sa, make the 'gar' nice and long. "

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ronnie snarled.

Hermes rolled up the sleeves of his gown, flicked his wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Mr. Granger's done it!"

Ronnie was in a very bad mood by the end of the class.

"It's no wonder no one can stand him," she said to Harriet as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "he's a nightmare, honestly. "

Someone knocked into Harriet as they hurried past her. It was Hermes. Harriet caught a glimpse of his face -- and was startled to see that he was in tears.

"I think he heard you. "

"So?" said Ronnie, but she looked a bit uncomfortable. "He must've noticed he's got no friends. "

Hermes didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Harriet and Ronnie overheard Paavan Patil telling his friend Leroy that Hermes was crying in the boys' bathroom and wanted to be left alone. Ronnie looked still more awkward at this, but a moment later they had entered the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations put Hermes out of their minds.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Harriet was just helping herself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, her turban askew and terror on her face. Everyone stared as she reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know. "

She then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," she rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Penelope was in her element.

"Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me, now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I'm a prefect!"

"How could a troll get in?" Harriet asked as they climbed the stairs.

"Don't ask me, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Ronnie. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke. "

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused Hufflepuffs, Harriet suddenly grabbed Ronnie's arm.

"I've just thought -- Hermes. "

"What about him?"

"He doesn't know about the troll. "

Ronnie bit her lip.

"Oh, all right," she snapped. "But Penelope'd better not see us. "

Ducking down, they joined the Hufflepuffs going the other way, slipped down a deserted side corridor, and hurried off toward the boys' bathroom. They had just turned the corner when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

"Penelope!" hissed Ronnie, pulling Harriet behind a large stone griffin.

Peering around it, however, they saw not Penelope but Prince. She crossed the corridor and disappeared from view.

"What's she doing?" Harriet whispered. "Why isn't she down in the dungeons with the rest of the teachers?"

"Search me. "

Quietly as possible, they crept along the next corridor after Prince's fading footsteps.

"She's heading for the third floor," Harriet said, but Ronnie held up her hand.

"Can you smell something?"

Harriet sniffed and a foul stench reached her nostrils, a mixture of old socks and the kind of public toilet no one seems to clean.

And then they heard it -- a low grunting, and the shuffling footfalls of gigantic feet. Ron pointed -- at the end of a passage to the left, something huge was moving toward them. They shrank into the shadows and watched as it emerged into a patch of moonlight.

It was a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. It had short legs thick as tree trunks with flat, horny feet. The smell coming from it was incredible. It was holding a huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because its arms were so long.

The troll stopped next to a doorway and peered inside. It waggled its long ears, making up its tiny mind, then slouched slowly into the room.

"The keys in the lock," Harriet muttered. "We could lock it in. "

"Good idea," said Ronnie nervously.

They edged toward the open door, mouths dry, praying the troll wasn't about to come out of it. With one great leap, Harriet managed to grab the key, slam the door, and lock it.

"Yes!"

Flushed with their victory, they started to run back up the passage, but as they reached the corner they heard something that made their hearts stop -- a high, petrified scream -- and it was coming from the chamber they'd just chained up.

"Oh, no," said Ronnie, pale as the Bloody Baron.

"It's the boys' bathroom!" Harriet gasped.

"Hermes!" they said together.

It was the last thing they wanted to do, but what choice did they have? Wheeling around, they sprinted back to the door and turned the key, fumbling in their panic. Harriet pulled the door open and they ran inside.

Hermes Granger was shrinking against the wall opposite, looking as if he was about to faint. The troll was advancing on him, knocking the sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Harriet said desperately to Ronnie, and, seizing a tap, she threw it as hard as she could against the wall.

The troll stopped a few feet from Hermes. It lumbered around, blinking stupidly, to see what had made the noise. Its mean little eyes saw Harriet. It hesitated, then made for her instead, lifting its club as it went.

"Oy, pea-brain!" yelled Ronnie from the other side of the chamber, and she threw a metal pipe at it. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting its shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused again, turning its ugly snout toward Ronnie instead, giving Harriet time to run around it.

"Come on, run, run!" Harriet yelled at Hermes, trying to pull him toward the door, but he couldn't move, he was still flat against the wall, his mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ronnie, who was nearest and had no way to escape.

Harriet then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: she took a great running jump and managed to fasten her arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harriet hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harriet's wand had still been in her hand when she'd jumped - it had gone straight up one of the troll's nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harriet clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip her off or catch her a terrible blow with the club.

Hermes had sunk to the floor in fright; Ronnie pulled out her own wand -- not knowing what she was going to do she heard herself cry the first spell that came into her head: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over -- and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harriet got to her feet. She was shaking and out of breath. Ronnie was standing there with her wand still raised, staring at what she had done.

It was Hermes who spoke first.

"Is it -- dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harriet, "I think it's just been knocked out. "

She bent down and pulled her wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

"Urgh -- troll boogers. "

She wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Prince, with Quirrell bringing up the rear. Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching her heart.

Prince bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at Ronnie and Harriet. Harriet had never seen him look so angry. His lips were white. Hopes of winning fifty points for Gryffindor faded quickly from Harriet's mind.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in his voice. Harriet looked at Ronnie, who was still standing with her wand in the air. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Prince gave Harriet a swift, piercing look. Harriet looked at the floor. She wished Ronnie would put her wand down.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall -- they were looking for me. "

"Mr. Granger!"

Hermes had managed to get to his feet at last.

"I went looking for the troll because I -- I thought I could deal with it on my own -- you know, because I've read all about them. "

Ronnie dropped her wand. Hermes Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harriet stuck her wand up its nose and Ronnie knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived. "

Harriet and Ronnie tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well -- in that case. . . " said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Mr. Granger, you foolish boy, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermes hung his head. Harriet was speechless. Hermes was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here he was, pretending he had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Prince had started handing out sweets.

"Mr. Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses. "

Hermes left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harriet and Ronnie.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go. "

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than ten points," Ronnie grumbled.

"Five, you mean, once he's taken off Hermes'. "

"Good of him to get us out of trouble like that," Ronnie admitted. "Mind you, we did save him. "

"He might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with him," Harriet reminded her.

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermes, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermes Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.


	11. Quidditch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harriet would be playing in her first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship. 

Hardly anyone had seen Harriet play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harriet should be kept, well, secret. But the news that she was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harriet didn't know which was worse -- people telling her she'd be brilliant or people telling her they'd be running around underneath her holding a mattress. 

It was really lucky that Harriet now had Hermes as a friend. She didn't know how she'd have gotten through all her homework without him, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. He had also lent her Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read. 

Harriet learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert. 

Hermes had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Harriet and Ronnie had saved him from the mountain troll, and he was much nicer for it. The day before Harriet’s first Quidditch match, the three of them were out in the freezing courtyard during break, and he had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Prince crossed the yard. Harriet noticed at once that Prince was limping. Harriet, Ronnie, and Hermes moved closer together to block the fire from view; they were sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about their guilty faces caught Prince’s eye. She limped over. She hadn't seen the fire, but she seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"What's that you've got there, Evans?"

It was Quidditch Through the Ages. Harriet showed her. 

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Prince. "Give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor. "

"She’s just made that rule up," Harriet muttered angrily as Prince limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with her leg?"

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting her," said Ronnie bitterly. 

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harriet, Ronnie, and Hermes sat together next to a window. Hermes was checking Harriet and Ronnie’s Charms homework for them. He would never let them copy ("How will you learn?"), but by asking him to read it through, they got the right answers anyway. 

Harriet felt restless. She wanted Quidditch Through the Ages back, to take her mind off her nerves about tomorrow. Why should she be afraid of Prince? Getting up, she told Ronnie and Hermes she was going to ask Prince if she could have it. 

"Better you than me," they said together, but Harriet had an idea that Prince wouldn't refuse if there were other teachers listening. 

She made her way down to the staffroom and knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again. Nothing. 

Perhaps Prince had left the book in there? It was worth a try. She pushed the door ajar and peered inside - and a horrible scene met her eyes. 

Prince and Filch were inside, alone. Prince was holding her robes above her knees. One of her legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Prince bandages. 

"Blasted thing," Prince was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harriet tried to shut the door quietly, but --

"EVANS!"

Prince’s face was twisted with fury as she dropped her robes quickly to hide her leg. Harriet gulped. 

"I just wondered if I could have my book back. "

"GET OUT! OUT!"

Harriet left, before Prince could take any more points from Gryffindor. She sprinted back upstairs. 

"Did you get it?" Ronnie asked as Harriet joined them. "What's the matter?"

In a low whisper, Harriet told them what she'd seen.

"You know what this means?" She finished breathlessly. "She tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where she was going when we saw her -- she's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick she let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Hermes’ eyes were wide. 

"No -- she wouldn't,” he said. "I know she's not very nice, but she wouldn't try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe. "

"Honestly, Hermes, you think all teachers are saints or something," snapped Ronnie. "I'm with Harriet. I wouldn't put anything past Prince. But what's she after? What's that dog guarding?"

Harriet went to bed with her head buzzing with the same question. Netta was snoring loudly, but Harriet couldn't sleep. She tried to empty her mind -- she needed to sleep, she had to, she had her first Quidditch match in a few hours - but the expression on Prince’s face when Harriet had seen her leg wasn't easy to forget. 

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match. 

"You've got to eat some breakfast. "

"I don't want anything. "

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermes. 

"I'm not hungry. "

Harriet felt terrible. In an hour's time she'd be walking onto the field. 

"Harriet, you need your strength," said Sinead Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team. "

"Thanks, Sinead," said Harriet, watching Sinead pile ketchup on her sausages. 

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes. 

Ronnie and Hermes joined Netta, Sinead, and Dinah the West Ham fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Harriet, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Evans for President, and Dinah, who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Then Hermes had performed a tricky little charm so that the paint flashed different colors.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harriet and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green). 

Wood cleared her throat for silence. 

"Okay, women," she said. 

"And men," said Chaser Anthony Johnson. 

"And men," Wood agreed. "This is it. "

"The big one," said Frankie Prewett . 

"The one we've all been waiting for," said Georgina. 

"We know Olivia’s speech by heart," Frankie told Harriet, "we were on the team last year. "

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it. "

She glared at them all as if to say, "Or else. "

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you. "

Harriet followed Frankie and Georgina out of the locker room and, hoping her knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers. 

Master Hooch was refereeing. He stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, his broom in his hand. 

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," he said, once they were all gathered around him. Harriet noticed that he seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcella Flint, a sixth year. Harriet thought Flint looked as if she had some troll blood in her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Evans for President over the crowd. Her heart skipped. She felt braver. 

"Mount your brooms, please. "

Harriet clambered onto her Nimbus Two Thousand. 

Master Hooch gave a loud blast on his silver whistle. 

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. 

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Anthony Johnson of Gryffindor -- what an excellent Chaser that boy is, and rather attractive, too--"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor. "

The Prewett twins' friend, Leah Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall. 

"And he’s really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alec Spinnet, a good find of Olivia Wood's, last year only a reserve -- back to Johnson and -- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcella Flint gains the Quaffle and off she goes -- Flint flying like an eagle up there -- she's going to sc -- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle -- that's Chaser Cato Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and -- OUCH -- that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's Alice Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but she's blocked by a second Bludger -- sent her way by Frankie or Georgina Prewett, can't tell which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off he goes -- he’s really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead -- come on, now, Anthony -- Keeper Bletchley dives -- misses -- GRYFFINDORS SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. 

"Budge up there, move along. "

"Hagrid!"

Ronnie and Hermes squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them. 

"Bin watchin' from me hut," said Hagrid, patting a large pair of binoculars around her neck, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"Nope," said Ronnie. "Harriet hasn't had much to do yet. "

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's somethin'," said Hagrid, raising her binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harriet . 

Way up above them, Harriet was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of her and Wood's game plan. 

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Wood had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be. "

When Anthony had scored, Harriet had done a couple of loop-the-loops to let off her feelings. Now she was back to staring around for the Snitch. Once she caught sight of a flash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Prewett's wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting her way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Harriet dodged it and Frankie Prewett came chasing after it. 

"All right there, Harriet?" She had time to yell, as she beat the Bludger furiously toward Marcella Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," Leah Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Prewett’s, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the -- wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Alice Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over her shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed her left ear. 

Harriet saw it. In a great rush of excitement she dived downward after the streak of gold. Slytherin Seeker Theresa Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -- all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch. 

Harriet was faster than Higgs -- she could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead -- she put on an extra spurt of speed --

WHAM! A roar of rage echoed from the Gryffindors below -- Marcella Flint had blocked Harriet on purpose, and Harriet’s broom spun off course, Harriet holding on for dear life. 

"Foul!" screamed the Gryffindors. 

Master Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goal posts for Gryffindor. But in all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again. 

Down in the stands, Dinah Thomas was yelling, "Send her off, ref! Red card!"

"What are you talking about, Dinah?" said Ronnie. 

"Red card!" said Dinah furiously. "In football you get shown the red card and you're out of the game!"

"But this isn't football, Dinah," Ronnie reminded her. 

Hagrid, however, was on Dinah’s side. 

"They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harriet outta the air. "

Leah Jordan was finding it difficult not to take sides. 

"So -- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating--"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall. 

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul. . . "

"Jordan, I'm warning you--"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession. "

It was as Harriet dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past her head, that it happened. Her broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, she thought she was going to fall. She gripped the broom tightly with both her hands and knees. She’d never felt anything like that.

It happened again. It was as though the broom was trying to buck her off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harriet tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal-posts -- she had half a mind to ask Wood to call time-out -- and then she realized that her broom was completely out of her control. She couldn't turn it. She couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated her. 

Leah was still commentating. 

"Slytherin in possession -- Flint with the Quaffle -- passes Spinnet -- passes Bell -- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke her nose -- only joking, Professor -- Slytherins score -- A no. . . "

The Slytherins were cheering. No one seemed to have noticed that Harriet’s broom was behaving strangely. It was carrying her slowly higher, away from the game, jerking and twitching as it went. 

"Dunno what Harriet thinks she's doing," Hagrid mumbled. She stared through her binoculars. "If I didn' know better, I'd say she'd lost control of her broom. . . but she can't have. . . "

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harriet all over the stands. Her broom had started to roll over and over, with her only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harriet’s broom had given a wild jerk and Harriet swung off it. She was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand. 

"Did something happen to it when Flint blocked her?" Sinead whispered. 

"Can't have," Hagrid said, her voice shaking. "Can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark magic -- no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand. "

At these words, Hermes seized Hagrid's binoculars, but instead of looking up at Harriet, he started looking frantically at the crowd. 

"What are you doing?" moaned Ronnie, gray-faced. 

"I knew it," Hermes gasped, "Prince -- look. "

Ronnie grabbed the binoculars. Prince was in the middle of the stands opposite them. She had her eyes fixed on Harriet and was muttering nonstop under her breath.

"She’s doing something -- jinxing the broom," said Hermes. 

"What should we do?"

"Leave it to me. "

Before Ronnie could say another word, Hermes had disappeared. Ronnie turned the binoculars back on Harriet. Her broom was vibrating so hard, it was almost impossible for her to hang on much longer. The whole crowd was on its feet, watching, terrified, as the Prewett’s flew up to try and pull Harriet safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good - every time they got near her, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath her, obviously hoping to catch her if she fell. Marcella Flint seized the Quaffle and scored five times without anyone noticing. 

"Come on, Hermes," Ronnie muttered desperately. 

Hermes had fought his way across to the stand where Prince stood, and was now racing along the row behind her; he didn't even stop to say sorry as he knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst into the row in front. Reaching Prince, he crouched down, pulled out his wand, and whispered a few, well-chosen words. Bright blue flames shot from his wand onto the hem of Prince’s robes. 

It took perhaps thirty seconds for Prince to realize that she was on fire. A sudden yelp told him he had done his job. Scooping the fire off her into a little jar in his pocket, he scrambled back along the row -- Prince would never know what had happened. 

It was enough. Up in the air, Harriet was suddenly able to clamber back on to her broom. 

"Netta, you can look!" Ronnie said. Netta had been sobbing into Hagrid's jacket for the last five minutes. 

Harriet was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw her clap her hand to her mouth as though she was about to be sick -- she hit the field on all fours -- coughed -- and something gold fell into her hand. 

"I've got the Snitch!" She shouted, waving it above her head, and the game ended in complete confusion. 

"She didn't catch it, she nearly swallowed it," Flint was still howling twenty minutes later, but it made no difference -- Harriet hadn't broken any rules and Leah Jordan was still happily shouting the results -- Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty. Harriet heard none of this, though. She was being made a cup of strong tea back in Hagrid's hut, with Ronnie and Hermes.

"It was Prince," Ronnie was explaining, "Hermes and I saw her. She was cursing your broomstick, muttering, she wouldn't take her eyes off you. "

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, who hadn't heard a word of what had gone on next to her in the stands. "Why would Prince do somethin' like that?"

Harriet, Ronnie, and Hermes looked at one another, wondering what to tell her. Harriet decided on the truth. 

"I found out something about her," she told Hagrid. "She tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit her. We think she was trying to steal whatever it's guarding. "

Hagrid dropped the teapot. 

"How do you know about Fluffy?" She said. 

"Fluffy ?"

"Yeah -- she's mine -- bought her off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year -- I lent her to Dumbledore to guard the--"

"Yes?" said Harriet eagerly. 

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is. "

"But Prince is trying to steal it. "

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Prince is a Hogwarts teacher, she'd do nothin' of the sort. "

"So why did she just try and kill Harriet?" cried Hermes. 

The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed his mind about Prince. 

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Prince wasn't blinking at all, I saw her!"

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harriet’s broom acted like that, but Prince wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me, all three of yeh -- yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel--"

"Aha!" said Harriet, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked furious with herself.


	12. The Mirror of Erised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Prewett twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of her turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all were Professor Prince’s classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons. 

"I do feel so sorry," said Dahlia Black, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home. "

She was looking over at Harriet as she spoke. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. Harriet, who was measuring out powdered spine of lionfish, ignored them. Black had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, she had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harriet as Seeker next. Then she'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harriet had managed to stay on her bucking broomstick. So Black, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harriet about having no proper family. 

It was true that Harriet wasn't going back to Privet Drive for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harriet had signed up at once. She didn't feel sorry for herself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas she'd ever had. Ronnie and her sisters were staying, too, because Mr. and Mrs. Prewett were going to Romania to visit Charlie. 

When they left the dungeons at the end of Potions, they found a large fir tree blocking the corridor ahead. Two enormous feet sticking out at the bottom and a loud puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it. 

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ronnie asked, sticking her head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ronnie. "

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Black’s cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Prewett? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose -- that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to. "

Ronnie dived at Black just as Prince came up the stairs. 

"PREWETT!"

Ronnie let go of the front of Black’s robes. 

"She was provoked, Professor Prince," said Hagrid, sticking her huge face out from behind the tree. "Black was insultin' her family. "

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Prince silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Prewett, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along, all of you. "

Black, Crabbe, and Goyle pushed roughly past the tree, scattering needles everywhere and smirking. 

"I'll get her," said Ronnie, grinding her teeth at Black’s back, "one of these days, I'll get her--"

"I hate them both," said Harriet , "Black and Prince. "

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat. "

So the three of them followed Hagrid and her tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations. 

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree -- put it in the far corner, would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles. 

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked. 

"Just one," said Hermes. "And that reminds me -- Harriet, Ronnie, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library. "

"Oh yeah, you're right," said Ronnie, tearing her eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of her wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree. 

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh, we're not working," Harriet told her brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicolas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is. "

"You what ?" Hagrid looked shocked. "Listen here -- I've told yeh -- drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's guardin'. "

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermes. 

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harriet added. "We must've been through hundreds of books already and we can't find him anywhere -- just give us a hint -- I know I've read his name somewhere. "

"I'm sayin' nothin', said Hagrid flatly. 

"Just have to find out for ourselves, then," said Ronnie, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library. 

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what Prince was trying to steal? The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, or Notable Magical Names of Our Time ; he was missing, too, from Important Modern Magical Discoveries, and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry. And then, of course, there was the sheer size of the library; tens of thousands of books; thousands of shelves; hundreds of narrow rows. 

Hermes took out a list of subjects and titles he had decided to search while Ronnie strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Harriet wandered over to the Restricted Section. She had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there. Unfortunately, you needed a specially signed note from one of the teachers to look in any of the restricted books, and she knew she'd never get one. These were the books containing powerful Dark Magic never taught at Hogwarts, and only read by older students studying advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

"What are you looking for, girl?"

"Nothing," said Harriet. 

Master Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at get. 

"You'd better get out, then. Go on -- out!"

Wishing she'd been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harriet left the library. She, Ronnie, and Hermes had already agreed they'd better not ask Master Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure he’d be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk Prince hearing what they were up to. 

Harriet waited outside in the corridor to see if the other two had found anything, but she wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for a fortnight, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Master Pince breathing down their necks. 

Five minutes later, Ronnie and Hermes joined her, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch. 

"You will keep looking while I'm away, won't you?" said Hermes. "And send me an owl if you find anything. "

"And you could ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ronnie. "It'd be safe to ask them. "

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermes. 

Once the holidays had started, Ronnie and Harriet were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They had the dormitory to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a toasting fork -- bread, crumpets, marshmallows -- and plotting ways of getting Black expelled, which were fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work. 

Ronnie also started teaching Harriet wizard chess. This was exactly like Muggle chess except that the figures were alive, which made it a lot like directing troops in battle. Ronnie’s set was very old and battered. Like everything else she owned, it had once belonged to someone else in her family -- in this case, her grandfather. However, old chessmen weren't a drawback at all. Ronnie knew them so well she never had trouble getting them to do what she wanted. 

Harriet played with chessmen Sinead Finnigan had lent her, and they didn't trust her at all. She wasn't a very good player yet and they kept shouting different bits of advice at her, which was confusing. "Don't send me there, can't you see her knight? Send him, we can afford to lose him. "

On Christmas Eve, Harriet went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When she woke early in the morning, however, the first thing she saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of her bed.

“Happy Christmas,” said Ronnie sleepily as Harriet scrambled out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. 

“You too,” said Harriet. “Will you look at this? I’ve got some presents!”

“What did you expect, turnips?” said Ronnie, turning to her own pile, which was a lot bigger than Harriet’s. 

Harriet picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was “To Harriet, from Hagrid”. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid has obviously whittled it herself. Harriet blew it - it sounded a bit like and owl. 

A second, very small parcel contained a note. 

“We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Peter and Aunt Verona”. Taped to the note was a fifty-pence piece. 

"That's friendly," said Harriet. 

Ronnie was fascinated by the fifty pence. 

"Weird!" she said, "What a shape! This is money?"

"You can keep it," said Harriet, laughing at how pleased Ronnie was. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle -- so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," said Ronnie, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My dad. I told him you didn't expect any presents and -- oh, no," she groaned, "he’s made you a Prewett sweater. "

Harriet had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge. 

"Every year he makes us a sweater," said Ronnie, unwrapping her own, "and mine's always maroon. "

"That's really nice of him," said Harriet, trying the fudge, which was very tasty. 

Her next present also contained candy -- a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermes. 

This only left one parcel. Harriet picked it up and felt it. It was very light. She unwrapped it. 

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ronnie gasped. 

"I've heard of those," she said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Every Flavor Beans she'd gotten from Hermes. "If that's what I think it is -- they're really rare, and really valuable. "

"What is it?"

Harriet picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material. 

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ronnie, a look of awe on her face. "I'm sure it is -- try it on. "

Harriet threw the cloak around her shoulders and Ronnie gave a yell. 

"It is! Look down!"

Harriet looked down at her feet, but they were gone. She dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, her reflection looked back at her, just her head suspended in midair, her body completely invisible. She pulled the cloak over her head and her reflection vanished completely. 

"There's a note!" said Ronnie suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harriet pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing she had never seen before were the following words:

“Your mother left this in my possession before she died. 

It is time it was returned to you. 

Use it well. 

A Very Merry Christmas to you”. 

There was no signature. Harriet stared at the note. Ronnie was admiring the cloak. 

"I'd give anything for one of these," she said. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Harriet. She felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to her mother?

Before she could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Frankie and Georgina Prewett bounded in. Harriet stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. She didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet. 

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look -- Harriet’s got a Prewett sweater, too!"

Frankie and Georgina were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G. 

"Harriet’s is better than ours, though," said Frankie , holding up Harriet’s sweater. "He obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family. "

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ronnie?" Georgina demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm. "

"I hate maroon," Ronnie moaned halfheartedly as she pulled it over her head. 

"You haven't got a letter on yours," Georgina observed. "I suppose he thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid -- we know we're called Grankie and Forgina.”

"What's all this noise?"

Penelope Prewett stuck her head through the door, looking disapproving. She had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping her presents as she, too, carried a lumpy sweater over her arm, which Frankie seized. 

"P for prefect! Get it on, Penelope, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harriet got one. "

"I -- don't -- want -- " said Penelope thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over her head, knocking her glasses askew. 

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said Georgina. "Christmas is a time for family. "

They frog-marched Penelope from the room, her arms pinned to her side by her sweater. 

Harriet had never in all her life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce - and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Evans’ usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harriet pulled a wizard cracker with Frankie and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped her pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read her. 

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey. Penelope nearly broke her teeth on a silver sickle embedded in her slice. Harriet watched Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as she called for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harriet’s amazement, giggled and blushed, his top hat lopsided. 

When Harriet finally left the table, she was laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of nonexplodable, luminous balloons, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and her own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harriet had a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mr. Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harriet and the Prewett’s spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they returned to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harriet broke in her new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ronnie. She suspected she wouldn't have lost so badly if Penelope hadn't tried to help her so much. 

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Penelope chase Frankie and Georgina all over Gryffindor tower because they'd stolen her prefect badge. 

It had been Harriet’s best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of her mind all day. Not until she climbed into bed was she free to think about it: the invisibility cloak and whoever had sent it. 

Ronnie, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother her, fell asleep almost as soon as she'd drawn the curtains of her four-poster. Harriet leaned over the side of her own bed and pulled the cloak out from under it. 

Her mother’s. . . this had been her mother’s. She let the material flow over her hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said. 

She had to try it, now. She slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around herself. Looking down at her legs, she saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling. 

Use it well. 

Suddenly, Harriet felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to her in this cloak. Excitement flooded through her as she stood there in the dark and silence. She could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know. 

Ronnie grunted in her sleep. Should Harriet wake her? Something held her back -- her mother’s cloak -- she felt that this time -- the first time -- she wanted to use it alone. 

She crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole. 

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harriet said nothing. She walked quickly down the corridor. 

Where should she go? She stopped, her heart racing, and thought. And then it came to her. The Restricted Section in the library. She’d be able to read as long as she liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. She set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around her as she walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harriet lit a lamp to see her way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harriet could feel her arm supporting it, the sight gave her the creeps. 

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books from the rest of the library, she held up her lamp to read the titles. 

They didn't tell her much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harriet couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harriet’s neck prickled. Maybe she was imagining it, maybe not, but she thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be. 

She had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, she looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting looking book. A large black and silver volume caught her eye. She pulled it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on her knee, let it fall open. 

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek split the silence -- the book was screaming! Harriet snapped it shut, but the shriek went on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. She stumbled backward and knocked over her lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, she heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside -- stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, she ran for it. She passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through her, and Harriet slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in her ears. 

She came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. She had been so busy getting away from the library, she hadn't paid attention to where she was going. Perhaps because it was dark, she didn't recognize where she was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, she knew, but she must be five floors above there. 

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library Restricted Section. "

Harriet felt the blood drain out of her face. Wherever she was, Filch must know a shortcut, because her soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to her horror, it was Prince who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them. "

Harriet stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Prince came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see her, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they came much nearer they'd knock right into her -- the cloak didn't stop her from being solid. 

She backed away as quietly as she could. A door stood ajar to her left. It was her only hope. She squeezed through it, holding her breath, trying not to move it, and to her relief she managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harriet leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before she noticed anything about the room she had hidden in. 

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket -- but propped against the wall facing her was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way. 

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. 

Her panic fading now that there was no sound of Filch and Prince, Harriet moved nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at herself but see no reflection again. She stepped in front of it. 

She had to clap her hands to her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She whirled around. Her heart was pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed -- for she had seen not only herself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind her. 

But the room was empty. Breathing very fast, she turned slowly back to the mirror. 

There she was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind her, were at least ten others. Harriet looked over her shoulder -- but still, no one was there. Or were they all invisible, too? Was she in fact in a room full of invisible people and this mirror's trick was that it reflected them, invisible or not?

She looked in the mirror again. A man standing right behind her reflection was smiling at her and waving. She reached out a hand and felt the air behind her. If he was really there, she'd touch him, their reflections were so close together, but she felt only air - he and the others existed only in the mirror.

He was a very handsome man. He had dark red hair and his eyes -- his eyes are just like mine, Harriet thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green -- exactly the same shape, but then she noticed that he was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired woman standing next to him put her arm around him. She wore glasses, and her hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harriet’s did. 

Harriet was so close to the mirror now that her nose was nearly touching that of her reflection. 

"Mom?" She whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at her, smiling. And slowly, Harriet looked into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and saw other pairs of green eyes like hers, other noses like hers, even a little old man who looked as though she had Harriet’s knobbly knees -- Harriet was looking at her family, for the first time in her life. 

The Evans’ smiled and waved at Harriet and she stared hungrily back at them, her hands pressed flat against the glass as though she was hoping to fall right through it and reach them. She had a powerful kind of ache inside her, half joy, half terrible sadness. 

How long she stood there, she didn't know. The reflections did not fade and she looked and looked until a distant noise brought her back to her senses. She couldn't stay here, she had to find her way back to bed. She tore her eyes away from her mother's face, whispered, "I'll come back," and hurried from the room. 

"You could have woken me up," said Ronnie, crossly. 

"You can come tonight, I'm going back, I want to show you the mirror. 

"I'd like to see your mum and dad," Ronnie said eagerly. 

"And I want to see all your family, all the Prewett’s, you'll be able to show me your other sisters and everyone. "

"You can see them any old time," said Ronnie. "Just come round my house this summer. Anyway, maybe it only shows dead people. Shame about not finding Flamel, though. Have some bacon or something, why aren't you eating anything?"

Harriet couldn't eat. She had seen her parents and would be seeing them again tonight. She had almost forgotten about Flamel. It didn't seem very important anymore. Who cared what the three headed dog was guarding? What did it matter if Prince stole it, really?

"Are you all right?" said Ronnie. "You look odd. "

What Harriet feared most was that she might not be able to find the mirror room again. With Ronnie covered in the cloak, too, they had to walk much more slowly the next night. They tried retracing Harriet’s route from the library, wandering around the dark passageways for nearly an hour. 

"I'm freezing," said Ronnie. "Let's forget it and go back. "

"No!" Harriet hissed. “I know it's here somewhere. "

They passed the ghost of a tall witch gliding in the opposite direction, but saw no one else. just as Ronnie started moaning that her feet were dead with cold, Harriet spotted the suit of armor. 

"It's here -- just here -- yes!"

They pushed the door open. Harriet dropped the cloak from around her shoulders and ran to the mirror. 

There they were. Her mother and father beamed at the sight of her. 

"See?" Harriet whispered. 

"I can't see anything. "

"Look! Look at them all. . . there are loads of them. . . "

"I can only see you. "

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am. "

Harriet stepped aside, but with Ronnie in front of the mirror, she couldn't see her family anymore, just Ronnie in her paisley pajamas. 

Ronnie, though, was staring transfixed at her image. 

"Look at me!" she said. 

"Can you see all your family standing around you?"

"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I look older -- and I'm head girl!"

"What?"

"I am -- I'm wearing the badge like Beth used to -- and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup -- I'm Quidditch captain, too. "

Ronnie tore his eyes away from this splendid sight to look excitedly at Harriet. 

"Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

"How can it? All my family are dead -- let me have another look--"

"You had it to yourself all last night, give me a bit more time. "

"You're only holding the Quidditch cup, what's interesting about that? I want to see my parents. "

"Don't push me--"

A sudden noise outside in the corridor put an end to their discussion. They hadn't realized how loudly they had been talking. 

"Quick!"

Ronnie threw the cloak back over them as the luminous eyes of Mr. Norris came round the door. Ronnie and Harriet stood quite still, both thinking the same thing -- did the cloak work on cats? After what seemed an age, he turned and left. 

"This isn't safe -- he might have gone for Filch, I bet he heard us. Come on. "

And Ronnie pulled Harriet out of the room. 

The snow still hadn't melted the next morning. 

"Want to play chess, Harriet?" said Ronnie. 

"No. "

"Why don't we go down and visit Hagrid?"

"No. . . you go. . . "

"I know what you're thinking about, Harriet, that mirror. Don't go back tonight. "

"Why not?"

"I dunno, I've just got a bad feeling about it -- and anyway, you've had too many close shaves already. Filch, Prince, and Mr. Norris are wandering around. So what if they can't see you? What if they walk into you? What if you knock something over?"

"You sound like Hermes. "

"I'm serious, Harriet, don't go. "

But Harriet only had one thought in her head, which was to get back in front of the mirror, and Ronnie wasn't going to stop her. 

That third night she found her way more quickly than before. She was walking so fast she knew she was making more noise than was wise, but she didn't meet anyone. 

And there were her mother and father smiling at her again, and one of her grandfathers nodding happily. Harriet sank down to sit on the floor in front of the mirror. There was nothing to stop her from staying here all night with her family. Nothing at all. 

Except --

"So -- back again, Harriet?"

Harriet felt as though her insides had turned to ice. She looked behind her. Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Ariana Dumbledore. Harriet must have walked straight past her, so desperate to get to the mirror she hadn't noticed her. 

"I -- I didn't see you, ma’am. "

"Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you," said Dumbledore, and Harriet was relieved to see that she was smiling. 

"So," said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk to sit on the floor with Harriet, "you, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised. "

"I didn't know it was called that, ma’am. "

"But I expect you've realized by now what it does?"

"It -- well -- it shows me my family--"

"And it showed your friend Ronnie herself as head girl. "

"How did you know -- ?"

"I don't need a cloak to become invisible," said Dumbledore gently. "Now, can you think what the Mirror of Erised shows us all?"

Harriet shook her head. 

"Let me explain. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. Does that help?"

Harriet thought. Then she said slowly, "It shows us what we want. . . whatever we want. . . "

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore quietly. "It shows us nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You, who have never known your family, see them standing around you. Ronnie Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by her sisters, sees herself standing alone, the best of all of them. However, this mirror will give us neither knowledge or truth. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible. 

"The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harriet, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever do run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don't you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?"

Harriet stood up. 

"Ma’am-- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?"

"Obviously, you've just done so," Dumbledore smiled. "You may ask me one more thing, however. "

"What do you see when you look in the mirror?"

"I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks. "

Harriet stared. 

"One can never have enough socks," said Dumbledore. "Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books. "

It was only when she was back in bed that it struck Harriet that Dumbledore might not have been quite truthful. But then, she thought, as she shoved Scabbers


	13. Nicholas Flamel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Dumbledore had convinced Harriet not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the invisibility cloak stayed folded at the bottom of her trunk. Harriet wished she could forget what she'd seen in the mirror as easily, but she couldn't. She started having nightmares. Over and over again she dreamed about her parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," said Ronnie, when Harriet told her about these dreams. 

Hermes, who came back the day before term started, took a different view of things. He was torn between horror at the idea of Harriet being out of bed, roaming the school three nights in a row ("If Filch had caught you!"), and disappointment that she hadn't at least found out who Nicolas Flamel was. 

They had almost given up hope of ever finding Flamel in a library book, even though Harriet was still sure she'd read the name somewhere. Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harriet had even less time than the other two, because Quidditch practice had started again. 

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen her spirits. The Prewett’s complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harriet was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harriet found that she had fewer nightmares when she was tired out after training. 

Then, during one particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of bad news. She’d just gotten very angry with the Prewetts, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms. 

"Will you stop messing around!" she yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Prince’s refereeing this time, and she'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

Georgina Prewett really did fall off her broom at these words. 

“Prince’s refereeing?" she spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's she ever refereed a Quidditch match? She’s not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin. "

The rest of the team landed next to Georgina to complain, too. 

"It's not my fault," said Wood. "We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Prince hasn't got an excuse to pick on us. "

Which was all very well, thought Harriet, but she had another reason for not wanting Prince near her while she was playing Quidditch. . . 

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual at the end of practice, but Harriet headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where she found Ronnie and Hermes playing chess. Chess was the only thing Hermes ever lost at, something Harriet and Ronnie thought was very good for him. 

"Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ronnie when Harriet sat down next to her, "I need to concen -- " she caught sight of Harriet’s face. 

"What's the matter with you? You look terrible. "

Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harriet told the other two about Prince’s sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee. 

"Don't play," said Hermes at once. 

"Say you're ill," said Ronnie. 

"Pretend to break your leg," Hermes suggested. 

"Really break your leg," said Ronnie. 

"I can't," said Harriet. "There isn't a reserve Seeker. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all. "

At that moment Netta toppled into the common room. How she had managed to climb through the portrait hole was anyone's guess, because her legs had been stuck together with what they recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. She must have had to bunny hop all the way up to Gryffindor tower. 

Everyone fell over laughing except Hermes, who leapt up and performed the countercurse. Netta’s legs sprang apart and she got to her feet, trembling. "What happened?" Hermes asked her, leading her over to sit with Harriet and Ronnie. 

"Black," said Netta shakily. "I met her outside the library. She said she'd been looking for someone to practice that on. "

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermes urged Netta. "Report her!"

Netta shook her head. 

"I don't want more trouble," she mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Netta!" said Ronnie. "She’s used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of her and make it easier. "

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Black’s already done that," Netta choked out. 

Harriet felt in the pocket of her robes and pulled out a Chocolate Frog, the very last one from the box Hermes had given her for Christmas. She gave it to Netta, who looked as though she might cry. 

"You're worth twelve of Black," Harriet said. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Black? In stinking Slytherin. "

Netta’s lips twitched in a weak smile as she unwrapped the frog. 

"Thanks, Harriet. . . I think I'll go to bed. . . D'you want the card, you collect them, don't you?"

As Netta walked away, Harriet looked at the Famous Wizard card. 

"Dumbledore again," she said, "she was the first one I ever--"

She gasped. She stared at the back of the card. Then she looked up at Ronnie and Hermes. 

"I've found him!" She whispered. "I've found Flamel! I told you I'd read the name somewhere before, I read it on the train coming here -- listen to this: 'Dumbledore is particularly famous for her defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and her work on alchemy with her partner, Nicolas Flamel'!"

Hermes jumped to his feet. He hadn't looked so excited since they'd gotten back the marks for their very first piece of homework. 

"Stay there!" he said, and he sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harriet and Ronnie barely had time to exchange mystified looks before he was dashing back, an enormous old book in his arms. 

"I never thought to look in here!" he whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading. "

"Light ?" said Ronnie, but Hermes told her to be quiet until he’d looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to himself. 

At last he found what he was looking for. 

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ronnie grumpily. Hermes ignored her. 

"Nicolas Flamel," he whispered dramatically, "is the only known maker of the Philosopher’s Stone!"

This didn't have quite the effect he’d expected. 

"The what?" said Harriet and Ronnie. 

"Oh, honestly, don't you two read? Look -- read that, there. "

He pushed the book toward them, and Harriet and Ronnie read:

“The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher’s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. 

There have been many reports of the Philosopher’s Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).”

"See?" said Hermes, when Harriet and Ronnie had finished. "The dog must be guarding Flamel's Philosopher’s Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Harriet. "No wonder Prince’s after it! Anyone would want it. "

"And no wonder we couldn't find Flamel in that Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry," said Ronnie. "He's not exactly recent if he's six hundred and sixty-five, is he?"

The next morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Harriet and Ronnie were still discussing what they'd do with a Philosopher’s Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ronnie said she'd buy her own Quidditch team that Harriet remembered about Prince and the coming match. 

"I'm going to play," she told Ronnie and Hermes. "If I don't, all the Slytherins will think I'm just too scared to face Prince. I'll show them. . . it'll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win. "

"Just as long as we're not wiping you off the field," said Hermes. 

As the match drew nearer, however, Harriet became more and more nervous, whatever she told Ronnie and Hermes. The rest of the team wasn't too calm, either. The idea of overtaking Slytherin in the house championship was wonderful, no one had done it for seven years, but would they be allowed to, with such a biased referee?

Harriet didn't know whether she was imagining it or not, but she seemed to keep running into Prince wherever she went. At times, she even wondered whether Prince was following her, trying to catch her on her own. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly torture, Prince was so horrible to Harriet. Could Prince possibly know they'd found out about the Philosopher’s Stone? Harriet didn't see how she could -- yet she sometimes had the horrible feeling that Prince could read minds. 

Harriet knew, when they wished her good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ronnie and Hermes were wondering whether they'd ever see her alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Harriet hardly heard a word of Wood's pep talk as she pulled on her Quidditch robes and picked up her Nimbus Two Thousand. 

Ronnie and Hermes, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands next to Netta, who couldn't understand why they looked so grim and worried, or why they had both brought their wands to the match. Little did Harriet know that Ronnie and Hermes had been secretly practicing the Leg-Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Black using it on Netta, and were ready to use it on Prince if she showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harriet. 

"Now, don't forget, it's Locomotor Mortis," Hermes muttered as Ronnie slipped her wand up her sleeve. 

"I know," Ronnie snapped. "Don't nag. "

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harriet aside. 

"Don't want to pressure you, Evans, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Prince can favor Hufflepuff too much. "

"The whole school's out there!" said Frankie Prewett, peering out of the door. "Even -- blimey -- Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harriet’s heart did a somersault. 

"Dumbledore?" she said, dashing to the door to make sure. Frankie was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard. 

Harriet could have laughed out loud with relief. She was safe. There was simply no way that Prince would dare to try to hurt her if Dumbledore was watching. 

Perhaps that was why Prince was looking so angry as the teams marched onto the field, something that Ronnie noticed, too. 

"I've never seen Prince look so mean," she told Hermes. "Look -- they're off. Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ronnie in the back of the head. It was Black. 

"Oh, sorry, Prewett, didn't see you there. "

Black grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle. 

"Wonder how long Evans’ going to stay on her broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Prewett?"

Ronnie didn't answer; Prince had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because Georgina Prewett had hit a Bludger at her. Hermes, who had all his fingers crossed in his lap, was squinting fixedly at Harriet, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch. 

"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?" said Black loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Evans, who's got no parents, then there's the Prewett’s, who've got no money -- you should be on the team, Fortesque, you've got no brains. "

Netta went bright red but turned in her seat to face Black. 

"I'm worth twelve of you, Black," she stammered. 

Black, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ronnie, still not daring to take her eyes from the game, said, "You tell her, Netta. "

"Fortesque, if brains were gold you'd be poorer than Prewett, and that's saying something. "

Ronnie’s nerves were already stretched to the breaking point with anxiety about Harriet. 

"I'm warning you, Black -- one more word--"

"Ronnie!" said Hermes suddenly, "Harriet--"

"What? Where?"

Harriet had suddenly gone into a spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermes stood up, his crossed fingers in his mouth, as Harriet streaked toward the ground like a bullet. 

"You're in luck, Prewett, Evans has obviously spotted some money on the ground!" said Black.

Ronnie snapped. Before Black knew what was happening, Ronnie was on top of her, wrestling her to the ground. Netta hesitated, then clambered over the back of her seat to help. 

"Come on, Harriet!" Hermes screamed, leaping onto his seat to watch as Harriet sped straight at Prince -- he didn't even notice Black and Ronnie rolling around under his seat, or the scuffles and yelps coming from the whirl of fists that was Netta, Crabbe, and Goyle. 

Up in the air, Prince turned on her broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past her, missing her by inches -- the next second, Harriet had pulled out of the dive, her arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in her hand. 

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly. 

"Ronnie! Ronnie! Where are you? The game's over! Harriet’s won! We've won! Gryffindor is in the lead!" shrieked Hermes, dancing up and down on his seat and hugging Paavan Patil in the row in front. 

Harriet jumped off her broom, a foot from the ground. She couldn't believe it. She’d done it -- the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, she saw Prince land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped -- then Harriet felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face. 

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so that only Harriet could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been brooding about that mirror. . . been keeping busy. . . excellent. . . "

Prince spat bitterly on the ground. 

Harriet left the locker room alone some time later, to take her Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broomshed. She couldn't ever remember feeling happier. She’d really done something to be proud of now -- no one could say she was just a famous name any more. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. She walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in her head, which was a happy blur: Gryffindors running to lift her onto their shoulders; Ronnie and Hermes in the distance, jumping up and down, Ronnie cheering through a heavy nosebleed. 

Harriet had reached the shed. She leaned against the wooden door and looked up at Hogwarts, with its windows glowing red in the setting sun. Gryffindor in the lead. She’d done it, she'd shown Prince. . . 

And speaking of Prince. . .

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible toward the forbidden forest. Harriet’s victory faded from her mind as she watched. She recognized the figure's prowling walk. Prince, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner -- what was going on?

Harriet jumped back on her Nimbus Two Thousand and took off. Gliding silently over the castle she saw Prince enter the forest at a run. She followed. 

The trees were so thick she couldn't see where Prince had gone. She flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until she heard voices. She glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree. 

She climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to her broomstick, trying to see through the leaves. 

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Prince, but she wasn't alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harriet couldn't make out the look on her face, but she was stuttering worse than ever. Harriet strained to catch what they were saying. 

". . . d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Stevanie. . . "

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Prince, her voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Philosopher’s Stone, after all. "

Harriet leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Prince interrupted her. 

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Stevanie, I--"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Prince, taking a step toward her. 

"I-I don't know what you--"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. "

An owl hooted loudly, and Harriet nearly fell out of the tree. She steadied herself in time to hear Prince say, " -- your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting. "

"B-but I d-d-don't--"

"Very well," Prince cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie. "

She threw her cloak over her head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark now, but Harriet could see Quirrell, standing quite still as though she was petrified. 

"Harriet, where have you been ?" Hermes squeaked. 

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ronnie, thumping Harriet on the back. "And I gave Black a black eye, and Netta tried to take on Crabbe and Goyle single-handed! She’s still out cold but Master Pomfrey says she'll be all right -- talk about showing Slytherin! I've waiting for you in the common room, we're having a party, Frankie and Georgina stole some cakes and stuff from the kitchens. "

"Never mind that now," said Harriet breathlessly. "Let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this. . . "

She made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then she told them what she'd seen and heard. 

"So we were right, it is the Philosopher’s Stone, and Prince’s trying to force Quirrell to help her get it. She asked if she knew how to get past Fluffy -- and she said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus' -- I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from Fluffy, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell that Prince needs to break through--"

"So you mean the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Prince?" said Hermes in alarm. 

"It'll be gone by next Tuesday," said Ronnie.


	14. Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Quirrell, however, must have been braver than they'd thought. In the weeks that followed she did seem to be getting paler and thinner, but it didn't look as though she'd cracked yet.

Every time they passed the third-floor corridor, Harriet, Ronnie, and Hermes would press their ears to the door to check that Fluffy was still growling inside. Prince was sweeping about in her usual bad temper, which surely meant that the Stone was still safe. Whenever Harriet passed Quirrell these days she gave her an encouraging sort of smile, and Ronnie had started telling people off for laughing at Quirrell's stutter. 

Hermes, however, had more on his mind than the Philosopher’s Stone. He had started drawing up study schedules and color coding all his notes. Harriet and Ronnie wouldn't have minded, but he kept nagging them to do the same. 

"Hermes, the exams are ages away. "

"Ten weeks," Hermes snapped. "That's not ages, that's like a second to Nicolas Flamel. "

"But we're not six hundred years old," Ronnie reminded him. "Anyway, what are you studying for, you already know it's an A. "

"What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They're very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don't know what's gotten into me. . . "

Unfortunately, the teachers seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Hermes. They piled so much homework on them that the Easter holidays weren't nearly as much fun as the Christmas ones. It was hard to relax with Hermes next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon's blood or practicing wand movements. Moaning and yawning, Harriet and Ronnie spent most of their free time in the library with him, trying to get through all their extra work. 

"I'll never remember this," Ronnie burst out one afternoon, throwing down her quill and looking longingly out of the library window. It was the first really fine day they'd had in months. The sky was a clear, forget-me-not blue, and there was a feeling in the air of summer coming. 

Harriet, who was looking up "Dittany" in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, didn't look up until she heard Ronnie say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?"

Hagrid shuffled into view, hiding something behind her back. She looked very out of place in her moleskin overcoat. 

"Jus' lookin'," she said, in a shifty voice that got their interest at once. "An' what're you lot up ter?" She looked suddenly suspicious. "Yer not still lookin' fer Nicolas Flamel, are yeh?"

"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago," said Ronnie impressively. "And we know what that dog's guarding, it's a Philosopher’s St--"

"Shhhh!" Hagrid looked around quickly to see if anyone was listening. "Don' go shoutin' about it, what's the matter with yeh?"

"There are a few things we wanted to ask you, as a matter of fact," said Harriet, "about what's guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy--"

"SHHHH!" said Hagrid again. "Listen -- come an' see me later, I'm not promisin' I'll tell yeh anythin', mind, but don' go rabbitin' about it in here, students aren' s'pposed ter know. They'll think I've told yeh--"

"See you later, then," said Harriet. 

Hagrid shuffled off. 

"What was she hiding behind her back?" said Hermes thoughtfully. 

"Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?"

"I'm going to see what section she was in," said Ronnie, who'd had enough of working. She came back a minute later with a pile of books in her arms and slammed them down on the table.

"Dragons!" she whispered. "Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these: Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; From Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper's Guide. "

"Hagrid's always wanted a dragon, she told me so the first time I ever met her, " said Harriet. 

"But it's against our laws," said Ronnie. "Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks' Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It's hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we're keeping dragons in the back garden -- anyway, you can't tame dragons, it's dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie's got off wild ones in Romania. "

"But there aren't wild dragons in Britain ?" said Harriet. 

"Of course there are," said Ronnie. "Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who've spotted them, to make them forget. "

"So what on earth's Hagrid up to?" said Hermes. < 

When they knocked on the door of the gamekeeper's hut an hour later, they were surprised to see that all the curtains were closed. Hagrid called "Who is it?" before she let them in, and then shut the door quickly behind them. 

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused. 

"So -- yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Harriet. There was no point beating around the bush. "We were wondering if you could tell us what's guarding the Philosopher’s Stone apart from Fluffy. "

Hagrid frowned at her. 

"O' course I can't," she said. "Number one, I don' know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn' tell yeh if I could. That Stone's here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts -- I s'ppose yeh've worked that out an' all? Beats me how yeh even know abou' Fluffy. "

"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here," said Hermes in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's face twitched and they could tell she was trying not to smile. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really. " Hermes went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help her, apart from you. "

Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harriet and Ronnie beamed at Hermes. 

"Well, I don' s'pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that. . . let's see. . . she borrowed Fluffy from me. . . then some o' the teachers did enchantments. . . Professor Sprout -- Professor Flitwick -- Professor McGonagall -- " she ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell -- an' Dumbledore herself did somethin', o' course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Prince. "

"Prince?"

"Yeah -- yer not still on abou' that, are yeh? Look, Prince helped protect the Stone, she's not about ter steal it. "

Harriet knew Ronnie and Hermes were thinking the same as she was. If Prince had been in on protecting the Stone, it must have been easy to find out how the other teachers had guarded it. She probably knew everything -- except, it seemed, Quirrell's spell and how to get past Fluffy. 

"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy. aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harriet anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"

"Not a soul knows except me an' Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly. 

"Well, that's something," Harriet muttered to the others. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling. "

"Can't, Harriet, sorry," said Hagrid. Harriet noticed her glance at the fire. Harriet looked at it, too. 

"Hagrid -- what's that ?"

But she already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg. 

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with her beard, "That's -- er. . . "

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ronnie, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune. "

"Won it," said Hagrid. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game o' cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest. "

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermes. 

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under her pillow. "Got this outta the library -- Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit -- it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on ‘em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here -- how ter recognize diff'rent eggs -- what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them. "

She looked very pleased with herself, but Hermes didn't. 

"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," he said. 

But Hagrid wasn't listening. She was humming merrily as she stoked the fire. 

So now they had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out she was hiding an illegal dragon in her hut. 

"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ronnie sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting. Hermes had now started making study schedules for Harriet and Ronnie, too. It was driving them nuts. 

Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harriet another note from Hagrid. She had written only two words: It's hatching. 

Ronnie wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermes wouldn't hear of it. 

"Hermes, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?"

"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what she's doing--"

"Shut up!" Harriet whispered. 

Black was only a few feet away and she had stopped dead to listen. How much had she heard? Harriet didn't like the look on Black's face at all. 

Ronnie and Hermes argued all the way to Herbology and in the end, Hermes agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of their lesson, the three of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited. 

"It's nearly out.” She ushered them inside. 

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it. 

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath. 

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Harriet thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout. 

"Isn't he beautiful ?" Hagrid murmured. She reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at her fingers, showing pointed fangs. 

"Bless him, look, he knows his mommy!" said Hagrid. 

"Hagrid," said Hermes, "how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from her face -- she leapt to her feet and ran to the window. 

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains -- it's a kid -- she's runnin' back up ter the school. "

Harriet bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking her. 

Black had seen the dragon. 

Something about the smile lurking on Black's face during the next week made Harriet, Ronnie, and Hermes very nervous. They spent most of their free time in Hagrid's darkened hut, trying to reason with her. 

"Just let him go," Harriet urged. "Set him free. "

"I can't," said Hagrid. "He's too little. He'd die. "

They looked at the dragon. It had grown three times in length in just a week. Smoke kept furling out of its nostrils. Hagrid hadn't been doing her gamekeeping duties because the dragon was keeping her so busy. There were empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers all over the floor. 

"I've decided to call him Norbert," said Hagrid, looking at the dragon with misty eyes. "He really knows me now, watch. Norbert! Norbert! Where's Mommy?"

"She’s lost her marbles," Ronnie muttered in Harriet's ear. 

"Hagrid," said Harriet loudly, "give it two weeks and Norbert's going to be as long as your house. Black could go to Dumbledore at any moment. "

Hagrid bit her lip. 

"I -- I know I can't keep him forever, but I can't jus' dump him, I can't. "

Harriet suddenly turned to Ronnie. "Charlie. " she said. 

"You're losing it, too," said Ronnie. "I'm Ronnie, remember?"

"No -- Charlie -- your sister, Charlie. In Romania. Studying dragons. We could send Norbert to her. Charlie can take care of her and then put her back in the wild!"

"Brilliant!" said Ronnie. "How about it, Hagrid?"

And in the end, Hagrid agreed that they could send an owl to Charlie to ask her. 

The following week dragged by. Wednesday night found Hermes and Harriet sitting alone in the common room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The clock on the wall had just chimed midnight when the portrait hole burst open. Ronnie appeared out of nowhere as she pulled off Harriet's invisibility cloak. She had been down at Hagrid's hut, helping her feed Norbert, who was now eating dead rats by the crate. 

"It bit me!" she said, showing them her hand, which was wrapped in a bloody handkerchief. "I'm not going to be able to hold a quill for a week. I tell you, that dragon's the most horrible animal I've ever met, but the way Hagrid goes on about it, you'd think it was a fluffy little bunny rabbit. When it bit me she told me off for frightening it. And when I left, she was singing it a lullaby. "

There was a tap on the dark window. 

"It's Hedwig!" said Harriet, hurrying to let her in. "She'll have Charlie's answer!"

The three of them put their heads together to read the note. 

“Dear Ronnie,

How are you? Thanks for the letter -- I'd be glad to take the Norwegian Ridgeback, but it won't be easy getting him here. I think the best thing will be to send him over with some friends of mine who are coming to visit me next week. Trouble is, they mustn't be seen carrying an illegal dragon. 

Could you get the Ridgeback up the tallest tower at midnight on Saturday? They can meet you there and take him away while it's still dark. 

Send me an answer as soon as possible. 

Love,

Charlie”

They looked at one another. 

"We've got the invisibility cloak," said Harriet. "It shouldn't be too difficult - I think the cloaks big enough to cover two of us and Norbert. "

It was a mark of how bad the last week had been that the other two agreed with her. Anything to get rid of Norbert -- and Black. 

There was a hitch. By the next morning, Ronnie's bitten hand had swollen to twice its usual size. She didn't know whether it was safe to go to Master Pomfrey-- would he recognize a dragon bite? By the afternoon, though, she had no choice. The cut had turned a nasty shade of green. It looked as if Norbert's fangs were poisonous. 

Harriet and Hermes rushed up to the hospital wing at the end of the day to find Ronnie in a terrible state in bed. 

"It's not just my hand," she whispered, "although that feels like it's about to fall off. Black told Master Pomfrey she wanted to borrow one of my books so she could come and have a good laugh at me. She kept threatening to tell him what really bit me -- I've told him it was a dog, but I don't think he believes me -- I shouldn't have hit her at the Quidditch match, that's why she's doing this. "

Harriet and Hermes tried to calm Ronnie down. 

"It'll all be over at midnight on Saturday," said Hermes, but this didn't soothe Ronnie at all. On the contrary, she sat bolt upright and broke into a sweat. 

"Midnight on Saturday!" she said in a hoarse voice. "Oh no oh no -- I've just remembered -- Charlie's letter was in that book Black took, she's going to know we're getting rid of Norbert. "

Harriet and Hermes didn't get a chance to answer.Master Pomfrey came over at that moment and made them leave, saying Ronnie needed sleep. 

"It's too late to change the plan now," Harriet told Hermes. "We haven't got time to send Charlie another owl, and this could be our only chance to get rid of Norbert. We'll have to risk it. And we have got the invisibility cloak, Black doesn't know about that. "

They found Fang, the boarhound, sitting outside with a bandaged tail when they went to tell Hagrid, who opened a window to talk to them. 

"I won't let you in," she puffed. "Norbert's at a tricky stage -- nothin' I can't handle. "

When they told her about Charlie's letter, her eyes filled with tears, although that might have been because Norbert had just bitten her on the leg. 

"Aargh! It's all right, he only got my boot -- jus' playin' -- he's only a baby, after all. "

The baby banged its tail on the wall, making the windows rattle. Harriet and Hermes walked back to the castle feeling Saturday couldn't come quickly enough. 

They would have felt sorry for Hagrid when the time came for her to say good-bye to Norbert if they hadn't been so worried about what they had to do. It was a very dark, cloudy night, and they were a bit late arriving at Hagrid's hut because they'd had to wait for Peeves to get out of their way in the entrance hall, where he'd been playing tennis against the wall. Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a large crate.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely. "

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Harriet as though the teddy was having his head torn off. 

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Harriet and Hermes covered the crate with the invisibility cloak and stepped underneath it themselves. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate back up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up another staircase, then another -- even one of Harriet's shortcuts didn't make the work much easier. 

"Nearly there!" Harriet panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower. 

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting that they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared. 

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe, had Black by the ear. 

"Detention!" he shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you--"

"You don't understand, Professor. Harriet Evans' coming -- she's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on -- I shall see Professor Snape about you, Black!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermes did a sort of jig. 

"Black's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Harriet advised him. 

Chuckling about Black, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness. 

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harriet and Hermes the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harriet and Hermes shook hands with the others and thanked them very much. 

At last, Norbert was going. . . going. . . gone. 

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon -- Black in detention -- what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness. 

"Well, well, well," she whispered, "we are in trouble. "

They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.


	15. The Forbidden Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

Things couldn’t have been worse. 

Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermes was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around Harriet's brain, each more feeble than the last. She couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up the tallest astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already. 

Had Harriet thought that things couldn't have been worse? She was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, he was leading Netta. 

"Harriet!" Netta burst out, the moment she saw the other two. "I was trying to find you to warn you, I heard Black saying she was going to catch you, she said you had a drag--"

Harriet shook her head violently to shut Netta up, but Professor McGonagall had seen. He looked more likely to breathe fire than Norbert as he towered over the three of them. 

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mrs. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves. "

It was the first time Hermes had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. He was staring at his slippers, as still as a statue. 

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Dahlia Black some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get her out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught her. I suppose you think it's funny that Fortesque here heard the story and believed it, too?"

Harriet caught Netta's eye and tried to tell her without words that this wasn't true, because Netta was looking stunned and hurt. Poor, blundering Netta -- Harriet knew what it must have cost her to try and find them in the dark, to warn them. 

"I'm disgusted," said Professor McGonagall. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Mr. Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Miss Evans, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All three of you will receive detentions -- yes, you too, Miss Fortesque, nothing gives you the right to walk around school at night, especially these days, it's very dangerous -- and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor. "

"Fifty?" Harriet gasped -- they would lose the lead, the lead she'd won in the last Quidditch match. 

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through his long, pointed nose. 

"Professor -- please--"

"You can't--"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Evans. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students. "

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harriet felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. How could they ever make up for this?

Harriet didn't sleep all night. She could hear Netta sobbing into her pillow for what seemed like hours. Harriet couldn't think of anything to say to comfort her. She knew Netta, like herself, was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harriet Evans, the famous Harriet Evans, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, her and a couple of other stupid first years. 

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harriet was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on her, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harriet went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted her. Slytherins, on the other hand, clapped as she walked past them, whistling and cheering, "Thanks Evans, we owe you one!"

Only Ronnie stood by her. 

"They'll all forget this in a few weeks. Frankie and Georgina have lost loads of points in all the time they've been here, and people still like them. "

"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harriet miserably. 

"Well -- no," Ronnie admitted. 

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harriet swore to herself not to meddle in things that weren't her business from now on. She’d had it with sneaking around and spying. She felt so ashamed of herself that she went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team. 

"Resign ?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harriet during practice, and if they had to speak about her, they called her "the Seeker. "

Hermes and Netta were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harriet, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermes had stopped drawing attention to himself in class, keeping his head down and working in silence. 

Harriet was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying she had to do kept her mind off her misery. She, Ronnie, and Hermes kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions. . . 

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harriet's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern her was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on her own one afternoon, she heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As she drew closer, she heard Quirrell's voice. 

"No -- no -- not again, please--"

It sounded as though someone was threatening her. Harriet moved closer. 

"All right -- all right -- " she heard Quirrell sob. 

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening her turban. She was pale and looked as though she was about to cry. She strode out of sight; Harriet didn't think Quirrell had even noticed her. She waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Harriet was halfway toward it before she remembered what she'd promised herself about not meddling. 

All the same, she'd have gambled twelve Philosopher’s Stones that Prince had just left the room, and from what Harriet had just heard, Prince would be walking with a new spring in her step -- Quirrell seemed to have given in at last. 

Harriet went back to the library, where Hermes was testing Ronnie on Astronomy. Harriet told them what she'd heard.

"Prince's done it, then!" said Ronnie. "If Quirrell's told her how to break her Anti-Dark Force spell--"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermes. 

"Maybe Prince's found out how to get past her without asking Hagrid," said Ronnie, looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here telling you how to get past a giant three-headed dog. So what do we do, Harriet?"

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ronnie's eyes, but Hermes answered before Harriet could. 

"Go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure. "

"But we've got no proof!" said Harriet. "Quirrell's too scared to back us up. Prince's only got to say she doesn't know how the troll got in at Halloween and that she was nowhere near the third floor -- who do you think they'll believe, her or us? It's not exactly a secret we hate her, Dumbledore'll think we made it up to get her sacked. Filch wouldn't help us if her life depended on it, she's too friendly with Snape, and the more students get thrown out, the better, she'll think. And don't forget, we're not supposed to know about the Stone or Fluffy. That'll take a lot of explaining. "

Hermes looked convinced, but Ronnie didn't. 

"If we just do a bit of poking around--"

"No," said Harriet flatly, "we've done enough poking around. "

She pulled a map of Jupiter toward her and started to learn the names of its moons. 

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harriet, Hermes, and Netta at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

“Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. 

Meet Mrs. Filch in the entrance hall. 

Professor McGonagall”

Harriet had forgotten they still had detentions to do in the fury over the points they'd lost. She half expected Hermes to complain that this was a whole night of studying lost, but he didn't say a word. Like Harriet, he felt they deserved what they'd got. 

At eleven o'clock that night, they said good-bye to Ronnie in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Netta. Filch was already there -- and so was Black. Harriet had also forgotten that Black had gotten a detention, too. 

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside. 

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" she said, leering at them. "Oh yes. . . hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me. . . It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out. . . hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed. . . Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

They marched off across the dark grounds. Netta kept sniffing. Harriet wondered what their punishment was going to be. It must be something really horrible, or Filch wouldn't be sounding so delighted. 

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harriet could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout. 

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started. "

Harriet's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. Her relief must have showed in her face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, girl -- it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece. "

At this, Netta let out a little moan, and Black stopped dead in her tracks. 

"The forest?" she repeated, and she didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night -- there's all sorts of things in there -- werewolves, I heard. "

Netta clutched the sleeve of Harriet's robe and made a choking noise. 

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, her voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at her heel. She was carrying her large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over her shoulder. 

"Abou' time," she said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harriet, Hermes?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, “They're here to be punished, after all. "

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here. "

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," she added nastily, and she turned and started back toward the castle, her lamp bobbing away in the darkness. 

Black now turned to Hagrid. 

"I'm not going in that forest," she said, and Harriet was pleased to hear the note of panic in her voice. 

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it. "

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my mother knew I was doing this, she'd--"

"-- tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer mother’d rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on. "

Black didn't move. She looked at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped her gaze. 

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment. "

She led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding her lamp up high, she pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest. 

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery. "

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" said Black, unable to keep the fear out of her voice. 

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least. "

"I want Fang," said Black quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth. 

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," said Hagrid. "So me, Harriet, an' Hermes'll go one way an' Dahlia, Netta, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now -- that's it -- an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh -- so, be careful -- let's go. "

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, and Harriet, Hermes, and Hagrid took the left path while Black, Netta, and Fang took the right. 

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves. 

Harriet saw that Hagrid looked very worried. 

"Could a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Harriet asked. 

"Not fast enough," said Hagrid. "It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before. "

They walked past a mossy tree stump. Harriet could hear running water; there must be a stream somewhere close by. There were still spots of unicorn blood here and there along the winding path. 

"You all right, Hermes?" Hagrid whispered. "Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter -- GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Harriet and Hermes and hoisted them off the path behind a towering oak. She pulled out an arrow and fitted it into her crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. The three of them listened. Something was slithering over dead leaves nearby: it sounded like a cloak trailing along the ground. Hagrid was squinting up the dark path, but after a few seconds, the sound faded away. 

"I knew it," she murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be. "

"A werewolf?" Harriet suggested. 

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now. "

They walked more slowly, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved. 

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself -- I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came -- was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man, with red hair and beard, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Harriet and Hermes' jaws dropped. 

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

She walked forward and shook the centaur's hand. 

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting her crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Harriet Evans an' Hermes Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur. 

"We'd noticed," said Hermes faintly. 

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"Erm--"

"A bit," said Hermes timidly. 

"A bit. Well, that's something. " Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight. "

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing up, too. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt -- you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed again.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now. "

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin' Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright. "

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer home,” said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets. "

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise her bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and -bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan. 

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured -- would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply. 

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then. "

Harriet and Hermes followed her out of the clearing, staring over their shoulders at Ronan and Bane until the trees blocked their view. 

"Never," said Hagrid irritably, "try an' get a straight answer out of a centaur. Ruddy stargazers. Not interested in anythin' closer'n the moon. "

"Are there many of them in here?" asked Hermes. 

"Oh, a fair few. . . Keep themselves to themselves mostly, but they're good enough about turnin' up if ever I want a word. They're deep, mind, centaurs. . . they know things. . . jus' don' let on much. "

"D'you think that was a centaur we heard earlier?" said Harriet. 

"Did that sound like hooves to you? Nah, if yeh ask me, that was what's bin killin' the unicorns -- never heard anythin' like it before. "

They walked on through the dense, dark trees. Harriet kept looking nervously over her shoulder. She had the nasty feeling they were being watched. She was very glad they had Hagrid and her crossbow with them. They had just passed a bend in the path when Hermes grabbed Hagrid's arm. 

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You two wait here!" Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

They heard her crashing away through the undergrowth and stood looking at each other, very scared, until they couldn't hear anything but the rustling of leaves around them. 

"You don't think they've been hurt, do you?" whispered Hermes. 

"I don't care if Black has, but if something's got Netta. . . it's our fault she's here in the first place. "

The minutes dragged by. Their ears seemed sharper than usual. Harriet's seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig. What was going on? Where were the others?

At last, a great crunching noise announced Hagrid's return. Black, Netta, and Fang were with her. Hagrid was fuming. Black, it seemed, had sneaked up behind Netta and grabbed her as a joke. Netta had panicked and sent up the sparks. 

"We'll be lucky ter catch anythin' now, with the racket you two were makin'. Right, we're changin' groups -- Netta, you stay with me an' Hermes, Harriet, you go with Fang an' this idiot. I'm sorry," Hagrid added in a whisper to Harriet , "but she'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done. "

So Harriet set off into the heart of the forest with Black and Fang. They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harriet thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harriet could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak. 

"Look -- " she murmured, holding out her arm to stop Black. 

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer. 

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harriet had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. 

Harriet had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made her freeze where she stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered. . . Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. Harriet, Black, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood. 

"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Black let out a terrible scream and bolted -- so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harriet -- unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harriet -- she couldn't move for fear. 

Then a pain like she'd never felt before pierced her head; it was as though her scar were on fire. Half blinded, she staggered backward. She heard hooves behind her, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harriet, charging at the figure. 

The pain in Harriet's head was so bad she fell to her knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When she looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over her, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body. 

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harriet to her feet. 

"Yes -- thank you -- what was that?"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harriet, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, livid, on Harriet's forehead. 

"You are the Evans girl," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time -- especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way. 

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harriet could clamber onto his back. 

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping from the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty. 

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Evans girl. The quicker she leaves this forest, the better. "

"What have you been telling her?" growled Bane. "Remember, Firenze, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets?"

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said in his gloomy voice. 

Bane kicked his back legs in anger. 

"For the best! What is that to do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around like donkeys after stray humans in our forest!"

Firenze suddenly reared on to his hind legs in anger, so that Harriet had to grab his shoulders to stay on. 

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must. "

And Firenze whisked around; with Harriet clutching on as best she could, they plunged off into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them. 

Harriet didn't have a clue what was going on. 

"Why's Bane so angry?" She asked. "What was that thing you saved me from, anyway?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harriet to keep her head bowed in case of low-hanging branches, but did not answer Harriet's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for so long that Harriet thought Firenze didn't want to talk to her anymore. They were passing through a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped. 

"Harriet Evans, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Harriet, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions. "

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who has nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips. "

Harriet stared at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight. 

"But who'd be that desperate?" She wondered aloud. "If you're going to be cursed forever, death's better, isn't it?"

"It is," Firenze agreed, "unless all you need is to stay alive long enough to drink something else -- something that will bring you back to full strength and power -- something that will mean you can never die. Miss Evans, do you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment?"

"The Philosopher’s Stone! Of course -- the Elixir of Life! But I don't understand who--"

"Can you think of nobody who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?"

It was as though an iron fist had clenched suddenly around Harriet's heart. Over the rustling of the trees, she seemed to hear once more what Hagrid had told her on the night they had met: "Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. "

"Do you mean," Harriet croaked, "that was Vol-"

"Harriet! Harriet, are you all right?"

Hermes was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind him. 

"I'm fine," said Harriet, hardly knowing what she was saying. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in that clearing back there. "

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now. "

Harriet slid off her back. 

"Good luck, Harriet Evans," said Firenze. "The planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times. "

She turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harriet shivering behind her. 

Ronnie had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. She shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harriet roughly shook her awake. In a matter of seconds, though, she was wide-eyed as Harriet began to tell her and Hermes what had happened in the forest.

Harriet couldn't sit down. She paced up and down in front of the fire. She was still shaking. 

"Prince wants the stone for Voldemort. . . and Voldemort's waiting in the forest. . . and all this time we thought Prince just wanted to get rich. . . "

"Stop saying the name!" said Ronnie in a terrified whisper, as if she thought Voldemort could hear them. 

Harriet wasn't listening. 

"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so. . . Bane was furious. . . he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen. . . They must show that Voldemort's coming back. . . Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me. . . I suppose that's written in the stars as well. "

"Will you stop saying the name!" Ronnie hissed. 

"So all I've got to wait for now is Prince to steal the Stone," Harriet went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off. . . Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy. "

Hermes looked very frightened, but he had a word of comfort. 

"Harriet, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of with Dumbledore around, You-Know-Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic. "

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over. 

When Harriet pulled back her sheets, she found her invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:

“Just in case.”


	16. Through the Trapdoor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

In years to come, Harriet would never quite remember how he had managed to get through her exams when she half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door. 

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anticheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into her class to see if they could make a pineapple tapdance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox -- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Prince made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness potion. 

Harriet did the best she could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in her forehead, which had been bothering her ever since her trip into the forest. Netta thought Harriet had a bad case of exam nerves because Harriet couldn't sleep, but the truth was that Harriet kept being woken by her old nightmare, except that it was now worse than ever because there was a hooded figure dripping blood in it. 

Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harriet had seen in the forest, or because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, but Ronnie and Hermes didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harriet. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have much time to fret about what Prince or anyone else might be up to. 

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented selfstirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harriet couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermes as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager. "

Hermes always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ronnie said this made her feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Prewett twins and Leah Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows. "No more studying," Ronnie sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harriet, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet. "

Harriet was rubbing her forehead. 

"I wish I knew what this means!" she burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting -- it's happened before, but never as often as this. "

"Go to Master Pomfrey," Hermes suggested. 

"I'm not ill," said Harriet. "I think it's a warning. . . it means danger's coming. . . "

Ronnie couldn't get worked up, it was too hot. 

"Harriet, relax, Hermes’ right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Prince found out how to get past Fluffy. She nearly had her leg ripped off once, she's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Netta will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down. "

Harriet nodded, but she couldn't shake off a lurking feeling that there was something she'd forgotten to do, something important. When she tried to explain this, Hermes said, "That's just the exams. I woke up last night and was halfway through my Transfiguration notes before I remembered we'd done that one. "

Harriet was quite sure the unsettled feeling didn't have anything to do with work, though. She watched an owl flutter toward the school across the bright blue sky, a note clamped in its mouth. Hagrid was the only one who ever sent him letters. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy. . . never. . . but. . . 

Harriet suddenly jumped to her feet. 

"Where're you going?" said Ronnie sleepily. 

"I've just thought of something," said Harriet. She had turned white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now. "

"Why?" panted Hermes, hurrying to keep up. 

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harriet, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

"What are you talking about?" said Ronnie, but Harriet, sprinting across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer. 

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside her house; her trousers and sleeves were rolled up, and she was shelling peas into a large bowl. 

"Hullo," she said, smiling. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Yes, please," said Ronnie, but Harriet cut her off. 

"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "they wouldn' take their cloak off. "

She saw the three of them look stunned and raised her eyebrows. 

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head -- that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw their face, they kept their hood up. "

Harriet sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to then about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as she tried to remember. "Yeah. . . they asked what I did, an' I told them I was gamekeeper here. . . they asked a bit about the sorta creatures I took after. . . so I told them. . . an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon. . . an' then. . . I can' remember too well, 'cause they kept buyin' me drinks. . . Let's see. . . yeah, then they said they had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted. . . but they had ter be sure I could handle it, they didn' want it ter go ter any old home. . . So I told them, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy. . . "

"And did they -- did they seem interested in Fluffy?" Harriet asked, trying to keep her voice calm. 

"Well -- yeah -- how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told them, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep--"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. 

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" she blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey -- where're yeh goin'?"

Harriet, Ronnie, and Hermes didn't speak to each other at all until they came to a halt in the entrance hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds. 

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harriet. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Prince or Voldemort under that cloak -- it must've been easy, once they’d got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see her. 

"We'll just have to -- " Harriet began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall. 

"What are you three doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books. 

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermes, rather bravely, Harriet and Ronnie thought. 

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Harriet swallowed -- now what?

"It's sort of secret," she said, but she wished at once she hadn't, because Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared. 

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," he said coldly. "She received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once. "

"She’s gone ?" said Harriet frantically. "Now?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Evans, she has many demands on her time--"

"But this is important. "

"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Evans?"

"Look," said Harriet, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor -- it's about the Philosopher’s Stone--"

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books he was carrying tumbled out of his arms, but he didn't pick them up. 

"How do you know -- ?" he spluttered. 

"Professor, I think -- I know -- that Pri -- that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore. "

He eyed her with a mixture of shock and suspicion. 

"Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," he said finally. “I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected. "

"But Professor--"

"Evans, I know what I'm talking about," he said shortly. He bent down and gathered up the fallen books. I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine. "

But they didn't. 

"It's tonight," said Harriet, once she was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Prince’s going through the trapdoor tonight. She’s found out everything she needs, and now she's got Dumbledore out of the way. She sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up. "

"But what can we--"

Hermes gasped. Harriet and Ronnie wheeled round. 

Prince was standing there. 

"Good afternoon," she said smoothly. 

They stared at her. 

"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," she said, with an odd, twisted smile. 

"We were -- " Harriet began, without any idea what she was going to say. 

"You want to be more careful," said Prince. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can it?"

Harriet flushed. They turned to go outside, but Prince called them back. 

"Be warned, Evans -- any more nighttime wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you. "

She strode off in the direction of the staffroom. 

Out on the stone steps, Harriet turned to the others. 

"Right, here's what we've got to do," she whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Prince -- wait outside the staff room and follow her if she leaves it. Hermes, you'd better do that. "

"Why me?"

"It's obvious," said Ronnie. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know. " She put on a high voice, "'Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong. . . '"

"Oh, shut up," said Hermes, but he agreed to go and watch out for Prince. 

"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harriet told Ronnie. "Come on. "

But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had they reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again and this time, he lost her temper. 

"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" he stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Prewett, from my own house!"

Harriet and Ronnie went back to the common room, Harriet had just said, "At least Hermes’ on Prince’s tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermes came in. 

"I'm sorry, Harriet!" he wailed. "Prince came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Prince went to get her, and I've only just got away, I don't know where Prince went. "

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harriet said. 

The other two stared at her. She was pale and her eyes were glittering. 

"I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first. "

"You're mad!" said Ronnie. 

"You can't!" said Hermes. "After what McGonagall and Prince have said? You'll be expelled!"

"SO WHAT" Harriet shouted. "Don't you understand? If Prince gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter anymore, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor wins the house cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Evans’ and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"

She glared at them. 

"You're right Harriet," said Hermes in a small voice. 

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harriet. "It's just lucky I got it back. "

"But will it cover all three of us?" said Ronnie. 

"All -- all three of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"

"Of course not," said Hermes briskly. "How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and took through my books, there might be something useful. . . "

"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too. "

"Not if I can help it," said Hermes grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on her exam. They're not throwing me out after that. "

After dinner the three of them sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered them; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harrjet any more, after all. This was the first night she hadn't been upset by it. Hermes was skimming through all his notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try to break. Harriet and Ronnie didn't talk much. Both of them were thinking about what they were about to do. 

Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed. 

"Better get the cloak," Ronnie muttered, as Leah Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harriet ran upstairs to their dark dormitory. She pulled out the cloak and then her eyes fell on the flute Hagrid had given her for Christmas. She pocketed it to use on Fluffy -- she didn't feel much like singing. 

She ran back down to the common room. 

"We'd better put the cloak on here, and make sure it covers all three of us - if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own--"

"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room. Netta appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor the toad, who looked as though she'd been making another bid for freedom. 

"Nothing, Netta, nothing," said Harriet, hurriedly putting the cloak behind her back. 

Netta stared at their guilty faces. 

"You're going out again," she said. 

"No, no, no," said Hermes. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Netta?"

Harriet looked at the grandfather clock by the door. They couldn't afford to waste any more time, Prince might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep. 

"You can't go out," said Netta, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble. "

"You don't understand," said Harriet, "this is important. "

But Netta was clearly steeling herself to do something desperate. 

"I won't let you do it," she said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll -- I'll fight you!"

"Netta,” Ronnie exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot--"

"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Netta. I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"

"Yes, but not to us," said Ronnie in exasperation. "Netta, you don't know what you're doing. "

She took a step forward and Netta dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight. 

"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Netta, raising her fists. "I'm ready!"

Harriet turned to Hermes. 

"Do something," she said desperately. 

Hermes stepped forward. 

"Netta," he said, "I'm really, really sorry about this. "

He raised him wand. 

"Petrificus Totalus!" he cried, pointing it at Netta. 

Netta’s arms snapped to her sides. Her legs sprang together. Her whole body rigid, she swayed where she stood and then fell flat on her face, stiff as a board. 

Hermes ran to turn her over. Netta’s jaws were jammed together so she couldn't speak. Only her eyes were moving, looking at them in horror. 

"What've you done to her?" Harriet whispered. 

"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermes miserably. "Oh, Netta, I'm so sorry. "

"We had to, Netta, no time to explain," said Harriet.

"You'll understand later, Netta," said Ronnie as they stepped over her and pulled on the invisibility cloak. 

But leaving Netta lying motionless on the floor didn't feel like a very good omen. In their nervous state, every statue's shadow looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves swooping down on them. At the foot of the first set of stairs, they spotted Mr. Norris skulking near the top. 

"Oh, let's kick him, just this once," Ronnie whispered in Harriet’s ear, but Harriet shook her head. As they climbed carefully around him, Mr. Norris turned his lamplike eyes on them, but didn't do anything. 

They didn't meet anyone else until they reached the staircase up to the third floor. Peeves was bobbing halfway up, loosening the carpet so that people would trip. 

"Who's there?" he said suddenly as they climbed toward him. He narrowed his wicked black eyes. "Know you're there, even if I can't see you. Are you ghoulie or ghostie or wee student beastie?"

He rose up in the air and floated there, squinting at them. 

"Should call Filch, I should, if something's a-creeping around unseen. "

Harriet had a sudden idea. 

"Peeves," she said, in a hoarse whisper, "the Bloody Baron has his own reasons for being invisible. "

Peeves almost fell out of the air in shock. He caught himself in time and hovered about a foot off the stairs.

"So sorry, your bloodiness, Mr. Baron, Sir," he said greasily. "My mistake, my mistake -- I didn't see you -- of course I didn't, you're invisible -- forgive old Peevsie his little joke, sir. "

"I have business here, Peeves," croaked Harriet. "Stay away from this place tonight. "

"I will, sir, I most certainly will," said Peeves, rising up in the air again. "Hope your business goes well, Baron, I'll not bother you. "

And he scooted off. 

"Brilliant, Harriet!" whispered Ronnie. 

A few seconds later, they were there, outside the third-floor corridor -- and the door was already ajar. 

"Well, there you are," Harriet said quietly, "Prince has already got past Fluffy. "

Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all three of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harriet turned to the other two. 

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," she said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now. "

"Don't be stupid," said Ronnie. 

"We're coming," said Hermes. 

Harriet pushed the door open. 

As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them. 

"What's that at its feet?" Hermes whispered. 

"Looks like a harp," said Ronnie. "Prince must have left it there. "

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harriet. “Well, here goes. . . "

She put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harriet hardly drew breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased -- it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep. 

"Keep playing," Ronnie warned Harriet as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads. "I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ronnie, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermes?”

"No, I don't!"

"All right. " Ronnie gritted her teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. She bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open. 

"What can you see?" Hermes said anxiously. 

"Nothing -- just black -- there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop. "

Harriet, who was still playing the flute, waved at Ronnie to get her attention and pointed at herself. 

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ronnie. "I don't know how deep this thing goes. Give the flute to Hermes so he can keep her asleep. "

Harriet handed the flute over. In the few seconds' silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermes began to play, it fell back into its deep sleep. 

Harriet climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom. 

She lowered herself through the hole until she was hanging on by her fingertips. Then she looked up at Ronnie and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," said Ronnie. 

"See you in a minute, I hope. . . "

And Harriet let go. Cold, damp air rushed past her as she fell down, down, down and --

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump she landed on something soft. She sat up and felt around, her eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though she was sitting on some sort of plant. 

"It's okay!" she called up to the light the size of a postage stamp, which was the open trapdoor, "it's a soft landing, you can jump!"

Ronnie followed right away. She landed, sprawled next to Harriet. 

"What's this stuff?" were her first words. 

"Dunno, some sort of plant thing. I suppose it's here to break the fall. Come on, Hermes!"

The distant music stopped. There was a loud bark from the dog, but Hermes had already jumped. He landed on Harriet’s other side. 

"We must be miles under the school," he said. 

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," said Ronnie. 

"Lucky!" shrieked Hermes. "Look at you both!"

He leapt up and struggled toward a damp wall. He had to struggle because the moment he had landed, the plant had started to twist snakelike tendrils around his ankles. As for Harriet and Ronnie, their legs had already been bound tightly in long creepers without their noticing. 

Hermes had managed to free himself before the plant got a firm grip on him. Now he watched in horror as the two girls fought to pull the plant off them, but the more they strained against it, the tighter and faster the plant wound around them. 

"Stop moving!" Hermes ordered them. "I know what this is -- it's Devil's Snare!"

"Oh, I'm so glad we know what it's called, that's a great help," snarled Ronnie, leaning back, trying to stop the plant from curling around her neck. "Shut up, I'm trying to remember how to kill it!" said Hermes. 

"Well, hurry up, I can't breathe!" Harriet gasped, wrestling with it as it curled around her chest. 

"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare. . . what did Professor Sprout say? -- it likes the dark and the damp. "

"So light a fire!" Harriet choked. 

"Yes -- of course -- but there's no wood!" Hermes cried, wringing his hands. 

"HAVE YOU GONE MAD?" Ronnie bellowed. "ARE YOU A WIZARD OR NOT?"

"Oh, right!" said Hermes, and he whipped out his wand, waved it, muttered something, and sent a jet of the same bluebell flames he had used on Prince at the plant. In a matter of seconds, the two girls felt it loosening its grip as it cringed away from the light and warmth. Wriggling and flailing, it unraveled itself from their bodies, and they were able to pull free.

"Lucky you pay attention in Herbology, Hermes," said Harriet as she joined him by the wall, wiping sweat off her face. 

"Yeah," said Ronnie, "and lucky Harriet doesn't lose her head in a crisis -- 'there's no wood,' honestly. "

"This way," said Harriet, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward. 

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harriet was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, she remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon -- Norbert had been bad enough. . . 

"Can you hear something?" Ronnie whispered. 

Harriet listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead. 

"Do you think it's a ghost?"

"I don't know. . . sounds like wings to me. "

"There's light ahead -- I can see something moving. "

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door. 

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ronnie. 

"Probably," said Harriet. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once. . . well, there's no other choice. . . I'll run. "

She took a deep breath, covered her face with her arms, and sprinted across the room. She expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at her any second, but nothing happened. She reached the door untouched. She pulled the handle, but it was locked. 

The other two followed her. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when Hermes tried the Alohomora charm. 

"Now what?" said Ronnie. 

"These birds. . . they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermes. 

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering -- glittering ?

"They're not birds!" Harriet said suddenly. "They're keys! Winged keys -- look carefully. So that must mean. . . " she looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. ". . . yes -- look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

"But there are hundreds of them!"

Ronnie examined the lock on the door. 

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one -- probably silver, like the handle. "

They each seized a broomstick and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys. They grabbed and snatched, but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one. 

Not for nothing, though, was Harriet the youngest Seeker in a century. She had a knack for spotting things other people didn't. After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, she noticed a large silver key that had a bent wing, as if it had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole. 

"That one!" She called to the others. "That big one -- there -- no, there -- with bright blue wings -- the feathers are all crumpled on one side. "

Ronnie went speeding in the direction that Harriet was pointing, crashed into the ceiling, and nearly fell off her broom.

"We've got to close in on it!" Harriet called, not taking her eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ronnie, you come at it from above -- Hermes, stay below and stop it from going down and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"

Ronnie dived, Hermes rocketed upward, the key dodged them both, and Harriet streaked after it; it sped toward the wall, Harriet leaned forward and with a nasty, crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Hermes and Ronnie’s cheers echoed around the high chamber. 

They landed quickly, and Harriet ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. She rammed it into the lock and turned - it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice. 

"Ready?" Harriet asked the other two, her hand on the door handle. They nodded. She pulled the door open. 

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight. 

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing them, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. Harriet, Ronnie and Hermes shivered slightly - the towering white chessmen had no faces. 

"Now what do we do?" Harriet whispered. 

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ronnie. "We've got to play our way across the room. "

Behind the white pieces they could see another door. 

"How?" said Hermes nervously. 

"I think," said Ronnie, "we're going to have to be chessmen. "

She walked up to a black knight and put her hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned her helmeted head to look down at Ronnie. 

"Do we -- er -- have to join you to get across?" The black knight nodded. Ronnie turned to the other two. 

"This needs thinking about. . . " she said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of three of the black pieces. . . "

Harriet and Hermes stayed quiet, watching Ronnie think. Finally she said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess--"

"We're not offended," said Harriet quickly. "Just tell us what to do. "

"Well, Harriet, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermes, you next to him instead of that castle. "

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ronnie. 

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving three empty squares that Harriet, Ronnie, and Hermes took. 

"White always plays first in chess," said Ronnie, peering across the board. "Yes. . . look. . . "

A white pawn had moved forward two squares. 

Ronnie started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever she sent them. Harriet’s knees were trembling. What if they lost?

"Harriet -- move diagonally four squares to the right. "

Their first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, facedown. 

"Had to let that happen," said Ronnie, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermes, go on. "

Every time one of their men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ronnie only just noticed in time that Harriet and Hermes were in danger. She herself darted around the board, taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones.

"We're nearly there," she muttered suddenly. "Let me think -- let me think. . . "

The white queen turned her blank face toward her. 

"Yes. . . " said Ronnie softly, "It's the only way. . . I've got to be taken. "

"NO!" Harriet and Hermes shouted. 

"That's chess!" snapped Ronnie. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and she'll take me -- that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harriet!"

"But--"

"Do you want to stop Prince or not?"

"Ronnie--"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, she'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative. 

"Ready?" Ronnie called, her face pale but determined. "Here I go -- now, don't hang around once you've won. "

She stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ronnie hard across the head with her stone arm, and she crashed to the floor -- Hermes screamed but stayed on his square -- the white queen dragged Ronnie to one side. She looked as if she'd been knocked out. 

Shaking, Harriet moved three spaces to the left. 

The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harriet’s feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ronnie, Harriet and Hermes charged through the door and up the next passageway. 

"What if she's -- ?"

"She'll be all right," said Harriet, trying to convince herself. "What do you reckon's next?"

"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare; Flitwick must've put charms on the keys; McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive; that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's. "

They had reached another door. 

"All right?" Harriet whispered. 

"Go on. "

Harriet pushed it open. 

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, making both of them pull their robes up over their noses. Eyes watering, they saw, flat on the floor in front of them, a troll even larger than the one they had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head. 

"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harriet whispered as they stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe. "

She pulled open the next door, both of them hardly daring to look at what came next -- but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line. 

"Prince’s," said Harriet. “What do we have to do?"

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped. 

"Look!" Hermes seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Harriet looked over his shoulder to read it:

“Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line. 

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight. 

Hermes let out a great sigh and Harriet, amazed, saw that he was smiling, the very last thing she felt like doing. 

"Brilliant," said Hermes. "This isn't magic -- it's logic -- a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever. "

"But so will we, won't we?"

"Of course not," said Hermes. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple. "

"But how do we know which to drink?"

"Give me a minute. "

Hermes read the paper several times. Then he walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to himself and pointing at them. At last, he clapped his hands. 

"Got it," he said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire -- toward the Stone. "

Harriet looked at the tiny bottle. 

"There's only enough there for one of us," she said. "That's hardly one swallow. "

They looked at each other. 

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

Hermes pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line. 

"You drink that," said Harriet. "No, listen, get back and get Ronnie. Grab brooms from the flying-key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy -- go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need her. I might be able to hold Prince off for a while, but I'm no match for her, really. "

"But Harriet -- what if You-Know-Who's with her?"

"Well -- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harriet, pointing at her scar. "I might get lucky again. "

Hermes’ lip trembled, and he suddenly dashed at Harriet and threw his arms around her. 

"Hermes!"

"Harriet -- you're a great wizard, you know. "

"I'm not as good as you," said Harriet, very embarrassed, as he let go of her. 

"Me!" said Hermes. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and -- oh Harriet -- be careful!"

"You drink first," said Harriet. "You are sure which is which, aren't you?"

"Positive," said Hermes. He took a long drink from the round bottle at the end, and shuddered. 

"It's not poison?" said Harriet anxiously. 

"No -- but it's like ice. "

"Quick, go, before it wears off. "

"Good luck -- take care. "

"GO!"

Hermes turned and walked straight through the purple fire. 

Harriet took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. She turned to face the black flames. 

"Here I come," she said, and she drained the little bottle in one gulp. 

It was indeed as though ice was flooding her body. She put the bottle down and walked forward; she braced herself, saw the black flames licking her body, but couldn't feel them -- for a moment she could see nothing but dark fire -- then she was on the other side, in the last chamber. 

There was already someone there -- but it wasn't Prince. It wasn't even Voldemort.


	17. The Woman With Two Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights to the story and characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

It was Quirrell. 

"You!" gasped Harriet. 

Quirrell smiled. Her face wasn't twitching at all. 

"Me," she said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Evans. "

"But I thought -- Prince--"

"Stevanie?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't her usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Stevanie does seem the type, doesn't she? So useful to have her swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to her, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Harriet couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't. 

"But Prince tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Mr. Granger accidentally knocked me over as he rushed to set fire to Prince at that Quidditch match. He broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Prince hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you. "

"Prince was trying to save me?"

"Of course," said Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think she wanted to referee your next match? She was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really. . . She needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Prince was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, she did make herself unpopular. . . and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight. "

Quirrell snapped her fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harriet. 

"You're too nosy to live, Evans. Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone. "

"You let the troll in?"

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls -- you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Prince, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off -- and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Prince's leg off properly. 

"Now, wait quietly, Evans. I need to examine this interesting mirror. "

It was only then that Harriet realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised. 

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping her way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this. . . but she's in London. . . I'll be far away by the time she gets back. . . "

All Harriet could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop her from concentrating on the mirror. 

"I saw you and Prince in the forest -- " she blurted out. 

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "She was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. She suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me -- as though she could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side. . . "

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it. 

"I see the Stone. . . I'm presenting it to my master. . . but where is it?"

Harriet struggled against the ropes binding her, but they didn't give. She had to keep Quirrell from giving her whole attention to the mirror. 

"But Prince always seemed to hate me so much. "

"Oh, she does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. She was at Hogwarts with your mother, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But she never wanted you dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing -- I thought Prince was threatening you. . . "

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face. 

"Sometimes," she said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions -- he is a great wizard and I am weak--"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harriet gasped. 

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young woman I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it. . . Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me. " Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me. . . decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me. . . "

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harriet was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley -- how could she have been so stupid? She’d seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with her in the Leaky Cauldron. 

Quirrell cursed under her breath. 

"I don't understand. . . is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harriet's mind was racing. 

What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, she thought, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it -- which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?

She tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around her ankles were too tight: she tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored her. She was still talking to herself. 

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harriet's horror, a voice answered, and the voice seemed to come from Quirrell herself. 

"Use the girl. . . Use the girl. . . "

Quirrell rounded on Harriet. 

"Yes -- Evans -- come here. "

She clapped her hands once, and the ropes binding Harriet fell off. Harriet got slowly to her feet. 

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see. "

Harriet walked toward her. 

I must lie, she thought desperately . I must look and lie about what I see, that's all. 

Quirrell moved close behind her. Harriet breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. She closed her eyes, stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again. 

She saw her reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at her. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket -- and as it did so, Harriet felt something heavy drop into her real pocket. Somehow -- incredibly -- she'd gotten the Stone. 

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harriet screwed up her courage. 

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," she invented. "I -- I've won the house cup for Gryffindor. "

Quirrell cursed again. 

"Get out of the way," she said. As Harriet moved aside, she felt the Philosopher’s Stone against her leg. Dare she make a break for it?

But she hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving her lips. 

"She lies. . . She lies. . . "

"Evans, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again. 

"Let me speak to her. . . face-to-face. . . "

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough. . . for this. . . "

Harriet felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting her to the spot. She couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, she watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap her turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then she turned slowly on the spot. 

Harriet would have screamed, but she couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harriet had ever seen. It was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake. 

"Harriet Evans . . " it whispered. 

Harriet tried to take a step backward but her legs wouldn't move. 

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor. . . I have form only when I can share another's body. . . but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds. . . Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks. . . you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest. . . and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own. . . Now. . . why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

So she knew. The feeling suddenly surged back into Harriet's legs. She stumbled backward. 

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face. "Better save your own life and join me. . . or you'll meet the same end as your parents. . . They died begging me for mercy. . . "

"LIAR!" Harriet shouted suddenly. 

Quirrell was walking backward at her, so that Voldemort could still see her. The evil face was now smiling. 

"How touching. . . " it hissed. "I always value bravery. . . Yes, girl, your parents were brave. . . I killed your mother first; and she put up a courageous fight. . . but your father needn't have died. . . he was trying to protect you. . . Now give me the Stone, unless you want him to have died in vain. "

"NEVER!"

Harriet sprang toward the flame door, but Voldemort screamed "SEIZE HER!" and the next second, Harriet felt Quirrell's hand close on her wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harriet's scar; her head felt as though it was about to split in two; she yelled, struggling with all her might, and to her surprise, Quirrell let go of her. The pain in her head lessened -- she looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw her hunched in pain, looking at her fingers -- they were blistering before her eyes. 

"Seize her! SEIZE HER!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harriet clean off her feet landing on top of her, both hands around Harriet's neck -- Harriet's scar was almost blinding her with pain, yet she could see Quirrell howling in agony. 

"Master, I cannot hold her -- my hands -- my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harriet to the ground with her knees, let go of her neck and stared, bewildered, at her own palms -- Harriet could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny. 

"Then kill her, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort. 

Quirrell raised her hand to perform a deadly curse, but Harriet, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face --

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off her, her face blistering, too, and then Harriet knew: Quirrell couldn't touch her bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain -- her only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep her in enough pain to stop her from doing a curse.

Harriet jumped to her feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harriet off -- the pain in Harriet's head was building -- she couldn't see -- she could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HER! KILL HER!" and other voices, maybe in Harriet's own head, crying, "Harriet! Harriet!"

She felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from her grasp, knew all was lost, and fell into blackness, down. . . down. . . down. . . 

Something gold was glinting just above her. The Snitch! She tried to catch it, but her arms were too heavy. 

She blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange. 

She blinked again. The smiling face of Ariana Dumbledore swam into view above her. 

"Good afternoon, Harriet," said Dumbledore. 

Harriet stared at her. Then she remembered: "Ma’am! The Stone! It was Quirrell! She’s got the Stone! Ma’am, quick--"

"Calm yourself, dear girl, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone. "

"Then who does? Ma’am, I--"

"Harriet, please relax, or Master Pomfrey will have me thrown out. "

Harriet swallowed and looked around her. She realized she must be in the hospital wing. She was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to her was a table piled high with what looked like half the tuck shop. 

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in the dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misses Frankie and Georgina Prewett were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Master Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it. "

"How long have I been in here?"

"Three days. Miss Ronnie Prewett and Mr. Hermes Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried. "

"But ma’am, the Stone--"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say. "

"You got there? You got Hermes' owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you. "

"It was you. "

"I feared I might be too late. "

"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept her off the Stone much longer -"

"Not the Stone, girl, you -- the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed. "

"Destroyed?" said Harriet blankly. "But your friend -- Nicolas Flamel--"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best. "

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die. "

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harriet's face. 

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all -- the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

Harriet lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling. 

"Ma’am?" said Harriet. "I've been thinking. . . ma’am -- even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who--"

"Call him Voldemort, Harriet. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself. "

"Yes, ma’am. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, Harriet, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share. . . not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harriet, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time -- and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power. "

Harriet nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made her head hurt. Then she said, "Ma’am, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me. . . things I want to know the truth about. . . "

"The truth. " Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie. "

"Well. . . Voldemort said that he only killed my father because he tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time. 

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day. . . put it from your mind for now, Harriet. When you are older. . . I know you hate to hear this. . . when you are ready, you will know. "

And Harriet knew it would be no good to argue. 

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your father died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your father’s for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign. . . to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing her soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good. "

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harriet time to dry her eyes on the sheet. When she had found her voice again, Harriet said, "And the invisibility cloak -- do you know who sent it to me?"

"Ah -- your mother happened to leave it in my possession, and I thought you might like it. " Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things. . . your mother used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when she was here."

"And there's something else. . .”

"Fire away."

"Quirrell said Prince--"

"Professor Prince, Harriet. "

"Yes, her -- Quirrell said she hates me because she hated my mother. Is that true?"

"Well, they did rather detest each other. Not unlike yourself and Miss Black. And then, your mother did something Prince could never forgive.”

"What?"

"She saved her life.”

"What?"

"Yes. . . " said Dumbledore dreamily. "Funny, the way people's minds work, isn't it? Professor Prince couldn't bear being in your mother’s debt. . . I do believe she worked so hard to protect you this year because she felt that would make her and your mother even. Then she could go back to hating your mother’s memory in peace. . . "

Harriet tried to understand this but it made her head pound, so she stopped. 

"And ma’am, there's one more thing. . ."

"Just the one?"

"How did I get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone -- find it, but not use it -- would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes. . . Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them -- but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"

She smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into her mouth. Then she choked and said, "Alas! Ear wax!"

Master Pomfrey, the nurse, was a nice man, but very strict. 

"Just five minutes," Harriet pleaded. 

"Absolutely not. "

"You let Professor Dumbledore in. . . "

"Well, of course, that was the headmistress, quite different. You need rest. "

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Master Pomfrey . . "

"Oh, very well," he said. "But five minutes only.”

And he let Ronnie and Hermes in. 

"Harriet!"

Hermes looked ready to fling his arms around her again, but Harriet was glad he held himself in as her head was still very sore. 

"Oh, Harriet, we were sure you were going to -- Dumbledore was so worried--"

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ronnie. "What really happened?"

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harriet told them everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ronnie and Hermes were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harriet told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermes screamed out loud. 

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ronnie finally. "Flamel's just going to die ?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that -- what was it? -- 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said she was off her rocker," said Ronnie, looking quite impressed at how crazy her hero was. 

"So what happened to you two?" said Harriet. 

"Well, I got back all right," said Hermes. "I brought Ronnie round -- that took a while -- and we were dashing up to the owlery to contact Dumbledore when we met her in the entrance hall -- she already knew -- she just said, 'Harriet's gone after her, hasn't she?' and hurtled off to the third floor. "

"D'you think she meant you to do it?" said Ronnie. "Sending you your mother’s cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermes exploded, "if she did -- I mean to say that's terrible -- you could have been killed.”

"No, it isn't," said Harriet thoughtfully. "She’s a funny woman, Dumbledore. I think she sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think she knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon she had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, she just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident she let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like she thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could. . . "

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off her rocker, all right," said Ronnie proudly. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course -- you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you -- but the food'll be good. "

At that moment, Master Pomfrey bustled over. 

"You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT" he said firmly. 

After a good night's sleep, Harriet felt nearly back to normal. 

"I want to go to the feast," she told Master Pomfrey as he straightened her many sweet boxes. "I can, can't I?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," he said stiffly, as though in his opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. "And you have another visitor. "

"Oh, good," said Harriet. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as she spoke. As usual when she was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. She sat down next to Harriet, took one look at her, and burst into tears. 

"It's -- all -- my -- ruddy -- fault!" She sobbed, her face in her hands. “I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told her! It was the only thing she didn't know, an' I told her! Yeh could've died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" said Harriet, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down her face. "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him. "

"Yeh could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harriet bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, she stopped crying. "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads. . . "

Hagrid wiped her nose on the back of her hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present. "

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" said Harriet anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle. 

"Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'course, she shoulda sacked me instead -- anyway, got yeh this. . . "

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harriet opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at her from every page were her mother and father. 

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos. . . knew yeh didn' have any. . . d'yeh like it?"

Harriet couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood. 

Harriet made her way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. She had been held up by Master Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving her one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Harriet walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. She slipped into a seat between Ronnie and Hermes at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at her. 

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away. 

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old woman's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . 

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two. "

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harriet could see Dahlia Black banging her goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight. 

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account. "

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little. 

"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes. . . 

"First -- to Miss Ronnie Prewett . . "

Ronnie went purple in the face; she looked like a radish with a bad sunburn. 

". . . for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points. "

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Penelope could be heard telling the other prefects, "My sister, you know! My youngest sister! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again. 

"Second -- to Mr. Hermes Granger . . for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points. "

Hermes buried his face in his arms; Harriet strongly suspected he had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves -- they were a hundred points up. 

"Third -- to Miss Harriet Evans . . " said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. ". . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points. "

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points -- exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the house cup -- if only Dumbledore had given Harriet just one more point. 

Dumbledore raised her hand. The room gradually fell silent. 

"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Miss Netta Fortesque. "

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harriet, Ronnie, and Hermes stood up to yell and cheer as Netta, white with shock, disappeared under a pile of people hugging her. She had never won so much as a point for Gryffindor before. Harriet, still cheering, nudged Ronnie in the ribs and pointed at Black, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if she'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on her. 

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration.”

She clapped her hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Prince was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. She caught Harriet's eye and Harriet knew at once that Prince's feelings toward her hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harriet. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts. 

It was the best evening of Harriet's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls. . . She would never, ever forget tonight. 

Harriet had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both she and Ronnie passed with good marks; Hermes, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Even Netta scraped through, her good Herbology mark making up for her abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as she was mean, might be thrown out, but she had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ronnie said, you couldn't have everything in life. 

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Netta's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Frankie Prewett sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bettie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station. 

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles. 

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ronnie, “both of you -- I'll send you an owl. "

"Thanks," said Harriet, "I'll need something to look forward to. " People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harriet!"

"See you, Evans!"

"Still famous," said Ronnie, grinning at her. 

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harriet. 

She, Ronnie, and Hermes passed through the gateway together. "There she is, dad, there she is, look!"

It was Jerry Prewett, Ronnie’s younger brother, but he wasn't pointing at Ronnie. 

"Harriet Evans!" He squealed. "Look, dad! I can see--"

"Be quiet, Jerry, and it's rude to point. "

Mr. Prewett smiled down at them. 

"Busy year?" he said. 

"Very," said Harriet. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mr. Prewett. "

"Oh, it was nothing, dear. "

"Ready, are you?"

It was Aunt Verona, still purple-faced, still very large, still looking furious at the nerve of Harriet, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind her stood Uncle Peter and Diana, looking terrified at the very sight of Harriet. 

"You must be Harriet's family!" said Mr. Prewett. 

"In a manner of speaking," said Aunt Verona. "Hurry up, girl, we haven't got all day." She walked away.

Harriet hung back for a last word with Ronnie and Hermes. 

"See you over the summer, then. "

"Hope you have -- er -- a good holiday," said Hermes, looking uncertainly after Aunt Verona, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant. 

"Oh, I will," said Harriet, and they were surprised at the grin that was spreading over her face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Diana this summer. .

**Author's Note:**

> Read the next book in the series: Harriet Evans and the Chamber of Secrets - https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044717


End file.
